
AMY LEVY 



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A.-.A.-.S.-.R.-. 

Southern Jurisdiction, U.S.A. 
Washington, D.C. 


Class No.jhAQi:io.nA 






THE BOMANOE OF A SHOP. 





I 






THE KOMANCE 


OF A SHOP. 


BY 

AMY LEVY. 



LIBRARY 

OF THE 

SUP.'.COUNCIL, 

SO.’.JUKISDICTION. 


BOSTON 

C U P P L E S AND II U H D 

;;^lgonquin press 
1889 


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CONTENTS 


CHAPTEE I. 


PAGE 

IN THE BEGINNING 

CHAPTEE II. 


1 

FRIENDS IN NEED . 

CHAPTEE III. 

• 

16 

WAYS AND MEANS 

CHAPTEE IV. 

• 

. 36 

NUMBER TWENTY B. ' 

CHAPTEE V. 

• 

47 

THIS WORKING- DAY WORLD 

CHAPTEE VI. 

• 

. 65 


TO THE RESCUE 


77 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


A NEW CUSTOMER 

CHAPTER VIL 

• • 

• 

PAGE 

. 93 

A DISTINGUISHED 

CHAPTER VIII. 

PERSON . 


108 

SHOW SUNDAY . , 

CHAPTER IX. 

« • 

• 

. 125 

SUMMING UP 

CHAPTER X. 

• • • 

• 

142 

A CONFIDENCE . 

CHAPTER XI. 

, 

. 159 

• CHAPTEE XII. 

GERTRUDE IS ANXIOUS 


170 

A ROMANCE 

CHAPTER XIII. 

• • 


. 181 

LUCY 

CHAPTER XIV. 

• • • 


190 

CRESSIDA 

CHAPTER XV. 


. 203 


CHAPTER XVI. 




A WEDDING 


216 


CONTENTS. vii 

CHAPTER XVII. 

PAGE 

A SPECIAL EDITION . . . . 225 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

PHYLLIS ..... 236 

CHAPTER XIX. 

THE SYCAMORES .... 246 

CHAPTER XX. 

IN THE SICK-ROOM . . . 257 

CHAPTER XXI. 

THE LAST ACT . . . , 266 

CHAPTER XXII. 

HOPE AND A FRIEND . . . . 272 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

A DISMISSAL .... 281 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

AT. LAST .... . 289 

EPILOGUE ..... 298 




THE ROMANCE OF A SHOP. 


CHAPTEE I. 

IN THE BEGINNING. 

Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel and lower the proud ; 
Turn thy wild wheel through sunshine, storm, and cloud:; 
Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate, 

Tennyson. 

T HEEE stood on Campden Hill a large, 
dun -coloured house, enclosed by a 
walled-in garden of several acres in extent. 
It belonged to no particular order of archi- 
tecture, and was more suggestive of comfort 
than of splendour, with its great windows, 
and rambling, nondescript proportions. On 
one side, built out from the house itself, 
was a big glass structure, originally designed 
for a conservatory. On the April morning 
2 


2 


THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 


of which I write, the whole place wore a 
dejected and dismantled appearance ; while 
in the windows and on the outer wall of the 
garden were fixed black and white posters, 
announcing a sale of effects to take place 
on that day week. 

The air of desolation which hung about 
the house had communicated itself in some 
vague manner to the garden, where the 
trees were bright with blossom, or misty 
with the tender green of the young leaves. 
Perhaps the effect of sadness was produced, 
or at least heightened, by the pathetic 
figure that paced slowly up and down the 
gravel path immediately before the house ; 
the figure of a young woman, slight, not 
tall, hare-headed, and clothed in deep 
mourning. 

She paused at last in her walk, and stood 
a moment in a listening attitude, her face 
uplifted to the sky. 

Gertrude Lorimer was not a beautiful 
woman, and such good looks as she pos- 
sessed varied from day to day, almost from 
hour to hour ; but a certain air of character 
and distinction clung to her through all her 
varying moods, and redeemed her from a 
possible charge of plainness. 


IN THE BEGINNING. 


3 


She had an arching, unfashionable fore- 
head,. like those of Lionardo da Vinci’s 
women, short-sighted eyes, and an ex- 
pressive month and chin. As she stood in 
the full light of the spring sunshine, her 
face pale and worn with recent sorrow, she 
looked, perhaps, older than her twenty- 
three years. 

Pushing back from her forehead the hair, 
which, though not cut into a “fringe,” had 
a tendency to stray about her face, and 
passing her hand across her eyes, with a 
movement expressive of mingled anxiety 
and resolve, she walked quickly to the door 
of the conservatory, opened it, and went 
inside. 

The interior of the great glass structure 
would have presented a surprise to the 
stranger expectant of palms and orchids. 
It was fitted up as a photographer’s 
studio. 

Several cameras, each of a different size, 
stood about the room. In one corner was 
a great screen of white-painted canvas; there 
were blinds to the roof adapted for admit- 
ting or excluding the light ; and paste- 
pots, bottles, printing-frames, photographs 
in various stages of finish — a nondescript 


4 THE EOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

heap of professional litter — were scattered 
about the place from end to end. 

Standing among these properties was a 
young girl of about twenty years of age ; 
fair, slight, upright as a dart, with a glance 
at once alert and serene. 

The two young creatures in their black 
dresses advanced to each other, then stood 
a moment, clinging to one another in 
silence. 

It was the first time that either had been 
in the studio since the day when their un- 
foreseen calamity had overtaken them ; a 
calamity which seemed to them so mys- 
terious, so unnatural, so past all belief, and 
yet which was common-place enough — a 
sudden loss of fortune, immediately followed 
by the sudden death of the father, crushed 
by the cruel blow which had fallen on him. 

Lucy,” said the elder girl at last, is it 
only a fortnight ago ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” answered Lucy, looking 
round the room, whose familiar details 
stared at her with a hideous unfamiliarity ; 

I don’t know if it is a hundred years or 
yesterday since I put that portrait of 
Phyllis in the printing-frame ! Have you 
told Phyllis ? ” 


IN THE BEGINNING. 


5 


“ No, but I wish to do so at once ; and 
Fanny. But here they come.” 

Two other black-gowned figures entered 
by the door which led from the house, and 
helped to form a sad little group in the 
middle of the room. 

Frances Lorimer,. the eldest of them all, 
and half-sister to the other three, was a 
stout, fair woman of thirty, presenting 
somewhat the appearance of a large and 
' superannuated baby. She had a big face, 
with small, meaningless features, and faint, 
surprised-looking eyebrows. Her complexion 
had once been charmingly pink and white, 
but the tints had hardened, and a coarse 
red colour clung to the wide cheeks. At 
the present moment, her little, light eyes 
red with weeping, her eyebrows arched 
higher than ever, she looked the picture of 
impotent distress. She had come in, hand 
in hand with Phyllis, the youngest, tallest, 
and prettiest of the sisters ; a slender, 
delicate-looking creature of seventeen, who 
had outgrown her strength ; the spoiled 
child of the family by virtue of her youth, 
her weakness, and her personal charms. 

Gertrude was the first to speak. 

Now that we are all together,” she said. 


6 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

“it is a good opportunity for talking over 
onr plans. There are a great many things 
to be considered, as you know. Phyllis, 
you had better not stand.” 

Phyllis cast her long, supple frame into 
the lounge which was regarded as her 
special property, and Fanny sat down on a 
chair, wiping her eyes with her black- 
bordered pocket-handkerchief. Gertrude put 
her hands behind her and leaned her head 
against the wall. 

Phyllis’s wide, grey eyes, with their half- 
wistful, half -humorous expression, glanced 
slowly from one to the other. 

“ Now that we are all grouped,” she said, 
“ there is nothing left but for Lucy to focus 
us.” 

It was a very small joke indeed, but they 
all laughed, even Fanny. No one had 
laughed for a fortnight, and at this re- 
assertion of youth and health their spirits 
rose with unexpected rapidity. 

“ Now, Gertrude, unfold your plans,” said 
Lucy, in her clear tones and with her air of 
calm resolve. 

Gertrude played nervously with a copy of 
the British Journal of Bhotogra^hy which 
she held, and began to speak with hesita- 


IN THE BEGINNING. 


7 


tion, almost with apology, as one who depre- 
cates any undue assumption of authority. 

You know that Mr. Grimshaw, our 
father’s lawyer, was here last night,” she 
said ; “ and that he and I had a long talk 
together about business. (He was sorry 
you were too ill to come down, Fanny.) He 
told me all about our affairs. We are quite, 
quite poor. When everything is settled, 
when the furniture is sold, he thinks there 
will be about F500 among us, perhaps more, 
perhaps less.” 

Fanny’s thin, feminine tones broke in on 
her sister’s words — 

There is my F50 a-year that my mama 
left me ; I am sure you are all welcome to 
that.” 

Yes, dear, yes,” said Lucy, patting her 
shoulder; while Gertrude bit her lip and 
went on — 

We cannot live for long on F500, as 
you must know. We must work. People 
have been very kind. Uncle Sebastian has 
telegraphed for two of us to go out to 
India ; Mrs. Devonshire offers another two 
of us a home for as long as we like. But I 
think we would all rather not accept these 
kind offers ? ” 


8 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

Of course not ! ” cried -Lucy and Phyllis 
in chorus, while Fanny maintained a meek, 
consenting silence. 

“ The question remains,” continued the 
speaker ; what can we do ? There is 
teaching, of course. We might find places 
as governesses ; but we should be at a great 
disadvantage without certificates or training 
of any sort. And we should be separated.” 

‘‘ Oh, Gertrude,” cried Fanny, you 
might write ! You write so beautifully ! 
I am sure you could make your fortune 
at it.” 

Gertrude's face flushed, but she controlled 
all other signs of the irritation which poor 
hapless Fan was so wont to excite in her. 

‘‘ I have thought about that, Fanny,” 
she said ; “ but I cannot afford to wait and 
hammer away at the publishers’ doors with 
a crowd of people more experienced and 
better trained than myself. No, I have 
another plan to propose to you all. There 
is one thing, at least, that we can all do.” 

“We can all make photographs, except 
Fan,” said Phyllis, in a doubtful voice. 

“Exactly ! ” cried Gertrude, growing ex- 
cited, and walking across to the middle of 
the room ; “ we can make photographs 1 


IN THE BEGINNING. 9 

We have had this studio, with every proper 
arrangement for light and other things, so 
that wo are not mere amateurs. Why not 
turn to account the only thing we can do, 
and start as professional photographers ? 
We should all keep together. It would be 
a risk, but if we failed we should be very 
little worse off than before. I know what 
Lucy thinks of it, already. What have you 
others to say to it ? ” 

Oh, Gertrude, need it come to that — to 
open a shop ? ” cried Fanny, aghast. 

Fanny, you are behind the age,” said 
Lucy, hastily. Don’t you know that it is 
quite distinguished to keep a shop ? That 
poets sell wall-papers, and first-class honour 
men sell lamps ? That Girton students 
make bonnets, and are thought none the 
worse of for doing so ? ” 

^^7 think it a perfectly splendid idea,” cried 
Phyllis, sitting up ; ^^we shall be like that 
good young man in Le Nahah.^' 

‘^Indeed, I hope we shall not be like 
Andre,” said Gertrude, sitting down by 
Phyllis on the couch and putting her arm 
round her, especially as none of us are 
likely to write successful tragedies by way 
of compensation,” 


10 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

“ Yon two people are getting frivolous,” 
remarked Lucy, severely, and there are so 
many things to consider.” 

“First of all,” answered Gertrude, “I 
want to convince Fanny. Think of all the 
dull little ways by which women, ladies, are 
generally reduced to earning their living ! 
But a business — that is so different. It is 
progressive ; a creature capable of growth ; 
the very qualities in which women’s work is 
dreadfully lacking.” 

“We have thought out a good many of 
the details,” went on Lucy, who was pos- 
sessed of less imagination than her sister, 
but had a clearer perception of what argu- 
ments would best appeal to Fanny’s under- 
standing. “ It would not absorb all our 
capital, we have so many properties already. 
We thought of buying some nice little busi- 
ness, such as are advertised every week in 
The British Journal, But of course we 
should do nothing rashly, nor without con- 
sulting Mr. Grimshaw.” 

“Not for his advice,” put in Gertrude, 
“ but to arrange any transaction for us.” 

“Gertrude and I,” went on Lucy, “would 
do the work, and you, Fanny, if you would, 
should be our housekeeper.” 


IN THE BEGINNING. 11 

“And I,” cried Phyllis, her great eyes 
shining, I would walk np and down out- 
side, like that man in the High Street, who 
tells me every day what a beautiful picture 
I should make ! ” 

“ Our photographs would be so good and 
our manners so charming that our fame 
would travel from one end of the earth to 
the other ! ” added Lucy, with a sudden 
abandonment of her grave and didactic 
manner. 

“We would have afternoon tea in the 
studio on Sunday, to which everybody 
should flock ; duchesses, cabinet ministers, 
and Mr. Irving. We should become the 
fashion, make colossal fortunes, and ulti- 
mately marry dukes!” finished off Ger- 
trude. 

Fanny looked up, helpless but uncon- 
vinced. The enthusiasm of these young 
creatures had failed to communicate itself 
to her. Their outburst of spirits at such a 
time seemed to her simply shocking. 

As Lucy had said, Frances Lorimer was 
behind the age. She was an anachronism, 
belonging by rights to the period when 
young ladies played the harp, wore ringlets, 
and went into hysterics. 


12 TEE BOMANCE OF A SHOT. 

Living, moving, and having her being well 
within the vision of three pairs of search- 
ing and intensely modern young eyes, poor 
Fan could permit herself neither these 
nor any kindred indulgences ; hut went her 
way with a vague, inarticulate sense of in- 
jury — a round, sentimental peg in the 
square, scientific hole of the latter half of 
the nineteenth century. 

Now, when the little tumult had in some 
degree subsided, she ventured once more to 
address the meeting. 

That was the worst of Fan ; there was 
no standing up in fair fight and having it 
out with her ; you might as soon fight a 
feather-bed. Convinced, to all appearances, 
one moment ; the next, she would go back 
to the very point from which she had 
started, with that mild but terrible obstinacy 
of the weak. 

I suppose you know,” she said, having 
once more recourse to the black-bordered 
230cket-handkerchief, ‘‘ what every one will 
think ? ” 

‘‘ Every one will be dead against it. We 
know that, of course,” said Lucy, with the 
calm confidence of untried strength. 

Fortunately the discussion was inter- 


IN THE BEGINNING, 13 

rnpted at this juncture, by the loud voice of 
the gong announcing luncheon. 

Fanny rushed off to bathe her eyes. 
Gertrude ran upstairs to wash her hands, 
and the two younger girls lingered together 
a few moments in the studio. 

wonder,” said Phyllis, with the com- 
plete and unconscious cynicism of youth, 
‘^why Fan has never married; she has 
just the sort of qualities that men seem 
to think desirable in a wife and a 
mother ! ’ ’ 

Poor Fanny, don’t you know? ” answered 
Lucy. “ There was a person once, ages ago, 
but he w^as poor and had to go away, and 
Fan would have no one else.” 

This was Lucy’s version of that far away, 
uninteresting little romance ; Fanny’s “ dis- 
appointment,” to which the heroine of it 
was fond of making vaguely pathetic allu- 
sion. Fan would have no one else, her 
sister had said ; but perhaps another cause 
lay at the root of her constancy (and of 
much feminine constancy besides) ; but if 
Lucy did not say no one else would have 
Fan, Phyllis, who was younger and more 
merciless, chose to accept the statement in 
its inverted form ; which, by the by, neither 


14 


THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 


she, nor I, nor you, reader, have authentic 
grounds for doing. 

“ Oh, I had heard about that before, 
naturally,” she answered; but furthei\con- 
versation on the subject was cut short by 
the appearance of Fanny herself, come to 
summon them to the dining-room, where 
lunch was set out on the great table. 

Old Kettle, the butler, waited on them as 
usual, and there was nothing in the nature 
of the viands to bring home to them the 
fact of their altered circumstances; but it 
was a dismal meal, crowned with a sorrow’s 
crown of sorrow, the remembrance of 
happier things. In the vacant place they 
all seemed to see the dead father, as he had 
been wont to sit among them; charming, 
gay, debonnair^ the life of the party ; 
delighting no less in the light-hearted 
sallies of his daughters, than in his own 
neatly-polished epigrams ; a man as brilliant 
as he had been unsatisfactory ; as little able 
to cope with the hard facts of existence as 
he had been reckless in attacking them. 

‘‘Oh, girls,” said Fanny, when the door had 
finally closed upon Kettle ; “ Oh, girls, I have 
been thinking. If only circumstances had 
been otherwise, if only — things had happened 


IN THE BEGINNING. 


15 


a little differently, I might have had a home 
to offer yon, a home to which yon might all 
have come ! ” 

Overcome by this vision of possibilities, 
this resuscitation of her dead and buried 
might-have-been. Miss Lorimer began to sob 
quietly ; and the poor eyes, which she had 
been at such pains to bathe, overflowed, 
deluging the streaky expanses of newly- 
washed cheeks. 

Oh, I can’t help it, I can’t help it,’* 
moaned this shuttlecock of fate, appealing 
to the stern young judges who sat silent 
around her; an appeal which, if duly con- 
sidered, will seem to be even more piteous 
than the outbreak of emotion of which it 
was the cause. 

Gertrude got up from her chair and went 
from the room ; Phyllis sat staring, with 
beautiful, unmoved, accustomed eyes ; only 
Lucy, laying a cool hand on her half-sister’s 
burning fingers, spoke words of comfort and 
of common sense. 



CHAPTEE II. 


FEIENDS IN NEED. 


And never say “ when the ivorld says “ a^,” 
For that is fatal. 


E. B. Browning. 


HEN Gertrude reached her room she 



t V flung herself on the bed, and lay there 
passive, with face buried from the light. 

She was worn out, poor girl, with the 
strain of the recent weeks; a period into 
which a lifetime of events, thoughts, and 
experience seemed to have crowded them- 
selves. 

.Action, or thoughts concerned with plans 
of action, had become for the moment 
impossible to her. 

She realised, with a secret tlnill of horror. 


FBIENDS IN NEED. 17 

that the moment had at length come when 
she must look full in the face the lurking 
anguish of which none but herself knew 
the existence ; and which, in the press of 
more immediate miseries, she had hitherto 
contrived to keep well in the background 
of her thoughts. Only, she had known 
dimly throughout, that face it she must, 
sooner or later ; and now her hour had 
come. 

There was some one, bound to her by 
every tie but the tie of words, who had let 
the days of her trouble go by and had made 
no sign ; a fair-weather friend, who had fled 
before the storm. 

In these few words are summed up the 
whol^ of Gertrude’s commonplace story. 

Only to natures as proud and as passion- 
ate as hers, can the words convey their full 
meaning. 

She was not a woman easily w^on ; not 
till after long siege had come surrender ; but 
surrender, complete, unquestioning, as only 
such a woman can give. 

Now, her being seemed shaken at the 
foundations, hurt at the vital roots. As a 
passionate woman will, she thought : If it 
had been his misfortune, not mine ! ” 

3 


18 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

In the hall lay a bit of pasteboard with 
‘‘sincere condolence” inscribed on it; and 
Gertrude had not failed to learn, from 
various sources, of the presence at half 
a dozen balls of the owner of the card, and 
his projected visit to India. 

Gertrude rose from the bed with a choked 
sound, which was scarcely a cry, in her 
throat. She had looked her trouble fairly 
in the eyes ; had not, as some women would 
have done, attempted to save her pride by 
refusing to acknowledge its existence ; but 
from the depths of her humiliation, had 
called upon it by its name. Now for ever 
and ever she turned from it, cast it forth 
from her ; cast forth other things, perhaps, 
round which it had twined itself ; but stood 
there, at least, a free woman, ready for 
action. . 

Thank God for action ; for the decree 
which made her to some extent the arbiter 
of other destinies, the prop and stay of 
other lives. For the moment she caught to 
her breast and held as a friend that weight 
of responsibility which before had seemed 
— and how often afterwards was to seem — 
too heavy and too cruel a burden for her 
young strength. 


FBIENDS IN NEED. 


19 


And now,” she said, setting her lips, 
“for a clearance.” 

Soon the floor was strewn with a heap of 
papers, chiefly manuscripts, whose dusty 
and battered air would have suggested to an 
experienced eye frequent and fruitless visits 
to the region of Paternoster Eow. 

Gertrude, kneeling on the floor, bent over 
them with anxious face, setting some aside, 
consigning others ruthlessly to the waste- 
paper basket. One, larger and more travel- 
worn than the rest, she held some time 
in her hand, as though weighing it in 
the balance. It was labelled : Charlotte 
Cordaij ; a tragedy in five acts ; and for a 
time its fate seemed uncertain ; but it found 
its way ultimately to the basket. 

A smart tap at the door roused Gertrude 
from her somewhat melancholy occupation. 

Come in ! ” she cried, pushing back the 
straying locks from the ample arch of her 
forehead, but retaining her seat among the 
manuscripts. 

The handle turned briskly, and a bloom- 
ing young woman, dressed in the height of 
fashion, entered the room. 

“ My dear Gertrude, what’s this ? Eachel 
weeping among her children ? ” 


20 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

She spoke in high tones, hut with an 
exaggeration of buoyancy which bespoke 
nervonsness. When last these friends had 
met, it had been in the chamber of death 
itself ; it was a little difficult, after that 
solemn moment, to renew the every-day 
relations of life without shock or jar. 

Come in, Conny, and if you must quote 
the Bible, don’t misquote it.” 

Constance Devonshire, heedless of her 
magnificent attire, cast herself down by 
the side of her friend, and put her arms 
caressingly round her. Her quick blue eye 
fell upon the basket with its overflowing 
papers. 

Gerty, what is the meaning of this 
massacre of the innocents ? ” 

‘ Vanity of vanities, saith the preacher,' 
since you seem bent on Scriptural allusion, 
Conny.” 

‘‘ But, Gerty, all your tales and things 1 
I should have thought ” — she blushed as 
she made the suggestion — that you might 
have sold them. And Charlotte Cordav. 
too ! ” 

Poor Charlotte, she has been to market 
so often that I cannot bear the sight of 
her ; and now I have given her her quietus 


FBIENDS IN NEED. 


21 


as the Kepnblic gave it to her original. As 
for the other victims, they are not worth 
a tear, and we will not discuss them.” 

She gathered up the remaining manu- 
scripts, and put them in a drawer; then, 
turning to her friend with a smile, de- 
manded from her an account of herself. 

Miss Devonshire’s presence, alien as it 
was to her present mood, acted with a 
stimulating effect on Gertrude. To Conny 
she knew herself to he a very tower of 
strength ; and such knowledge is apt to 
make us strong, at least for the time 
being. 

Oh, there’s nothing new about me I ” 
answered Conny, wrinkling her handsome, 
discontented face. Gerty, why won’t you 
come to us, you and Lucy, and let the 
others go to India? ” 

Gertrude laughed at this summary dis- 
posal of the family. 

Of course I knew you wouldn’t come,” 
said Conny, in an injured voice ; ‘‘ but, 
seriously, Gerty, what are you going to 
do?” 

In a few words Gertrude sketched the 
plan which she had propounded to her 
sisters that morning. 


22 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

I don’t believe it is possible,” said Miss 
Devonshire, with great promptness; ‘‘but 
it sounds very nice,” she added with a sigh, 
and thought, perhaps, of her own pros- 
perous boredom. 

The bell rang for tea, and Gertrude began 
brushing her hair. Constance endeavoured 
to seize the brush from her hands. 

“You are not coming down, my dear, in- 
deed you are not ! You are going to lie 
down, while I go and fetch your tea.” 

“ I had much rather not, Conny. I am 
quite well.” 

“You look as pale as a ghost. But jmu 
always have your own way. By the by, 
Fred is downstairs ; he walked over with 
me from Queen’s Gate. He’s the only 
person who is decently civil in the house, 
just at present.” 

Tea had been carried into the studio, 
where the two girls found the rest of the 
party assembled. Fan, with an air of 
elegance, as though conscious of perform- 
ing an essentially womanly function, and 
with much action of the little finger, was 
engaged in pouring out tea. In the middle 
of the room stood a group of three people : 
Lucy, Phyllis, and Fred Devonshire, a tall. 


FBIENDS IN NEED. 23 

heavy young man, elaborately and correctly 
dressed, with a fatuous, good-natured, pink 
and white face. 

Oh, come now. Miss Lucy,” he was 
heard to say, as Gertrude entered with his 
sister; that really is too much for one to 
swallow ! ” 

‘‘He won’t believe it!” cried Phyllis, 
clasping her hands, and turning her charm- 
ing face to the new-comers ; “ it’s quite 
true, isn’t it, Gerty ? ” 

“ Have you been telling tales out of 
school?” 

“ Lucy and I have been explaining the 
^lan to Fred, and he won’t believe it.” 

Gertrude felt a little vexed at this lack 
of reticence on their part; but then, she 
reflected, if the plan was to be carried out, 
it could remain no secret, especially to the 
Devonshires. Assured that there really was 
some truth in what he had been told, Fred 
relapsed into an amazed silence, broken by 
an occasional chuckle, which he hastened, 
each time, to subdue, considering it out of 
place in a house of mourning. 

He had long regarded the Lorimer girls 
as quite the most astonishing productions 
of the age, but this last freak of theirs, as 


24 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

he called it, fairly took away his breath. 
He was a soft-hearted youth, moreover, 
and the pathetic aspect of the case pre- 
sented itself to him with great force in the 
intervals of his amusement. 

Constance had brought a note from her 
mother, and having delivered it, and had 
tea, she rose to go. Fred remained lost in 
abstraction, muttering, ‘‘By Jove! ” below 
his breath at intervals, the chuckling having 
subsided. 

“ Come on, Fred ! ” cried his sister. 

He sprang to his feet. 

“Are 5'ou slowly recovering from the 
shock we have given you?” asked Lucy, 
demurely, as she held out her hand. 

“ Miss Lucy,” he said, solemnly, looking 
at her with all his foolish eyes, “I’ll come 
every day of the week to be photographed, 
if I may, and so shall all the fellows at our 
office 1 ” 

He was a little hurt and disconcerted, 
though he joined in the laugh himself, 
when every one burst out laughing ; even 
Lucy, to whom he had addressed himself 
as the least puzzling and most reliable of 
the Miss Lorimers. 

Gertrude walked down the drive with 


FEIENDS IN NEED. 


25 


the brother and sister, a colourless, dusky, 
wind-blown figure beside their radiant smart- 
ness, and let them out herself at the big 
gate. Here she lingered a moment, while 
the wind lifted her hair, and fanned her 
face, bringing a faint tinge of red to its 
paleness. 

Phyllis and Lucy opened the door of the 
studio which led to the garden, and stood 
there arm-in-arm, soothed no less than 
Gertrude by the chill sweetness of the 
April afternoon. The sound of carriage 
wheels roused them from the reverie into 
which both of them had fallen, and in 
another moment a brougham, drawn by 
two horses, was seen to round the curve 
of the drive and make its way to the house. 

The two girls retreated rapidly, shutting 
the door behind them. 

Great heavens, Aunt Caroline ! ” said 
Lucy, in dismay. 

She must have passed Gertrude at the 
gate ; Fanny, do you hear who has come ? ” 

Kettle must take the tea into the 
drawing-room,” said Fanny, in some agita- 
tion. ‘‘ You know Mrs. Pratt does not like 
the studio.” 

Phyllis was peeping through the panes of 


26 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

the door, which afforded a view of the 
entrance of the house. 

She is getting out now; the footman 
has opened the carriage door, and Kettle is 
on the steps. Oh, Lucy, if Aunt Caroline 
had been a horse, what a hard mouth she 
would have had ! ’’ 

In another moment a great swish of gar- 
ments and the sound of a metallic voice were 
heard in the drawing-room, which adjoined 
the conservatory ; and Kettle, appearing at 
the entrance which divided the two rooms, 
announced lugubriously: “Mrs. Septimus 
Pratt 1 ” 

A tall, angular woman, heavily draped in 
the crispest, most aggressive of mourning 
garments, was sitting upright on a sofa when 
the girls entered the drawing-room. She 
was a handsome person of her age, notwith- 
standing a slightly equine cast of counte- 
nance, and the absence of anything worthy 
the adjectives graceful or s^jm^atliique from 
her individuality. 

Mrs. Septimus Pratt belonged to that 
mischievous class of the community whose 
will and energy are very far ahead of their 
intellect and perceptions. She had a vulgar 
soul and a narrow mind, and unbounded 


FBIENDS IN NEED. 


27 


confidence in her own judgments ; but she 
was not had-hearted, and was animated, at 
the present moment, by a sincere desire to 
benefit her nieces. 

‘‘ How do you do, girls ? she said, speak- 
ing in that loud, authoritative key which 
many benevolent persons of her sex think 
right to employ when visiting their poorer 
neighbours. Yes, please, Fanny, a cup of 
tea and some bread-and-butter. Cake ? 
No, thank you. I didn’t expect to find 
cake 1 ” 

This last sentence, uttered with a sort of 
ponderous archness, as though to take off 
the edge of the implied rebuke, was received 
in unsmiling silence ; even Fanny choking 
down in time a protest which rose to her 
lips. 

With a sinking of the heart, Lucy heard 
the handle of the door turn, and saw Ger- 
trude enter, pale, severe, and distant. 

‘‘How do you do, Gerty?” cried Aunt 
Caroline, “though this is not our first 
meeting. How came you to be standing at 
the gate, without your hat, and in that 
shabby gown ? ” 

For Gertrude happened to be wearing an 
old black dress, having taken off the new 


28 THE ROMANCE OF A SHOP. 

mourning garment before clearing out the 
dusty papers. 

I beg your pardon, Aunt Caroline ? ” 
The opposition between these two women 
may be said to have dated from the cradle 
of one of them. 

You ought to know at your age, Ger- 
trude,” went on Mrs. Pratt, ‘‘ that now, of 
all times, you must be careful in your con- 
duct ; and among other things, you can none 
of you afford to be seen looking shabby.” 

Mrs. Septimus spoke, it must be owned, 
with considerable unction. She really meant 
well by her nieces, as I have said before, but 
at the same time she was very human ; and 
that circumstances should, as she imagined, 
have restored to her the right of speak- 
ing authoritatively to those independent 
maidens, was a chance not to be despised. 
Gertrude, once discussing her, had said that 
she was a person without respect, and, 
indeed, a reverence for humanity, as such, 
could not be reckoned among her virtues. 

There was a pause after her last remark, 
and then, to the surprise and consternation 
of every one, Fanny flung herself into the 
breach. 

Mrs. Pratt,” she said, vehemently, ‘‘ we 


FRIENDS IN NEED. 


29 


are poor, and we are not ashamed that any 
one should know it. It is nothing to be 
ashamed of ; and Gertrude is the last person 
to do anything wrong ; and I believe you 
know that as well as I do ! ” 

Poor Fan’s heroics broke off suddenly, as 
she encountered the steel-grey eye of Mrs. 
Pratt fixed upon her in astonishment. 

Opposition in any form always shocked her 
inexpressibly ; she really felt it to be a sort 
of sacrilege ; but Frances Lorimer was such 
a poor creature, that one could do nothing 
but pity her, trampled upon as she was by 
her younger sisters. 

Fanny is right,” said Gertrude, trusting 
herself to speak, ‘‘ we are very poor.” 

‘‘Now do you know exactly how you 
stand?” went on Aunt Caroline, who allowed 
herself all the privileges of a near relation in 
the matter of questions. 

“ It is not known yet, exactly,” answered 
Lucy, hastily, “ but Mr. Devonshire and 
our father’s lawyer, and, I thought, uncle 
Septimus, are going into the matter after 
the sale.” 

“ So your uncle tells me. He tells me 
also that there will be next to nothing for 
you girls. Have you made up your minds 


30 


THE ROMANCE OF A SHOP. 


what you are going to do ? Which of you 
goes out to the Sebastian Lorimers ? I hear 
they have telegraphed for two. I should 
say Fanny and Phyllis had better go ; the 
others are better able to look after them- 
selves.” 

Silence ; but not in the least disconcerted, 
Aunt Caroline went on. 

‘‘ It is a pity that none of you has mar- 
ried ; girls don’t seem to marry in these 
days ! ” (with some complacency, the well- 
disciplined, well-dowered daughters of the 
house of Pratt being in the habit of “ going 
off” in due order and season) ‘‘but India 
works wonders sometimes in that respect.” 

“ Oh, let me go to India, Gerty ! ” cried 
Phyllis, in a very audible aside, while 
Gertrude bent her head and bit her lip, con- 
trolling the desire to laugh hysterically, 
which the naive character of her aunt’s last 
remark had excited. 

“Now, Gertrude and Lucy,” continued 
the speaker, “I am empowered by your 
uncle” (poor Septimus!) “to offer you a 
home for as long as you like. Either as a 
permanency, or until you have found suitable 
occupations.” 

“ We are in India, Fan, that’s why there 


FBIENDS IN NEED. 


31 


is no mention of us,” whispered naughty 
Phyllis. 

“Aunt Caroline,” broke in Gertrude, sud- 
denly, lifting her head and speaking with 
great decision. “ You are very kind, and we 
thank you. But we contemplate other 
arrangements.” 

“ My dear Gertrude, other arrangements ! 
And what ‘ arrangements,’ pray, do you ^ con- 
template ’ ? ” 

“Fanny, Lucy, Phyllis, shall I tell Aunt 
Caroline ? ” 

They all consented ; Fanny, whose wil- 
lingness to join them had seemed before a 
doubtful matter, with the greatest prompt- 
ness of them all. 

“We think of going into business as 
photographers.” 

Gertrude dropped her bomb without 
delight. For a moment she saw herself 
and her sisters as they were reflected in 
the mind of Mrs. Septimus Pratt : naughty 
children, idle dreamers. 

Aunt Caroline refused to be shocked, and 
Gertrude felt that her bomb had turned into 
a pea from a pea-shooter. 

“Nonsense!” said Mrs. Pratt. “Ger- 
trude, I wonder that you haven’t more 


32 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

common sense. And before your younger 
sisters, too. But common sense,” with 
unpleasant emphasis, “ was never a family 
characteristic.” 

Lucy, who had remained silent and watch- 
ful throughout the last part of the discussion, 
if discussion it could be called, now rose 
to her feet. 

‘‘Aunt Caroline,” she said in her clear 
young voice; “will you excuse us if we 
refuse to discuss this matter with you 
at present ? We have decided nothing ; in- 
deed, how could we decide ? Gertrude wrote 
yesterday to an old friend of our father’s, 
who has the knowledge and experience we 
want ; and we are waiting now for his 
advice.” 

“I think you are a set of wilful, foolish 
girls,” cried Mrs. Pratt, losing her temper 
at last; “and heaven knows what will be- 
come of you ! You are my dead sister’s 
children, and I have my duties towards you, 
or I would wash my hands of you all from 
this hour. But your uncle shall talk to you ; 
perhaps you will listen to him; though 
there’s no saying.” 

She rose from her seat, with a purple flush 
on her habitually pale face, and without 


FBIENDS IN NEED. 


33 


deigning to go through the formalities of 
farewell, swept from th|.room, followed by 
Lucy. 

A good ridd^€^^ cried Fan. She too 
was flushed and'ls^^ed, poor soul, with de- 
fiance. 

Lucy, coming back from leading her aunt 
to the carriage, found Gertrude silent, pale, 
and trembling with rage. How dare 
she ! ” she said below her breath. 

She is only very silly,” answered Lucy; 
‘‘I confess I began to wonder if I was an 
ill-conducted pauper, or a lunatic, or some- 
thing of the sort, from the tone of her voice.” 

She spoke so loud,” said Gertrude, 
pressing her hand to her head. 

I never felt so labelled and docketed in 
my life,” cried Phyllis ; This is a foor jper- 
mil, seemed to be written all over my clothes. 
Poor Fred’s chuckles and ‘ By Joves ’ were 
much more comfortable.’” 

Kettle came into the room with a letter 
addressed to Miss G. Lorimer. 

^Mt is from Mr. Kussel,” she said, examin- 
ing the postmark, and broke the seal with 
anxious fingers. 

Mr. Kussel was the friend of their father 
to whom she had applied for advice the day 
4 


34 * THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

before. He carried on a large and world- 
famed business as a photographer in the 
north of England ; to the disgust of a family 
that had starved respectably on scholarship 
for several generations. 

Gertrude’s mobile face brightened as she 
read the letter. “ Mr. Eussel is most en- 
couraging,” she said; and very kind. He 
is actually coming to London to talk it over 
with us, and examine our work. And he 
even hints that one of us should go back 
with him to learn about things ; but perhaps 
that will not be necessary.” 

Every one seized on the kind letter, and 
the air was filled with the praises of its 
writer, Fanny even going so far as to call 
him a darling. 

Gertrude, walking up and down the room, 
stopped suddenly and said : Let us make 
some good resolutions ! ” 

‘‘ Yes,” cried Phyllis, with her usual 
frankness; ‘Het us pave the way to hell a 
htfcle ! ” 

‘^Firstly, we won’t be cynical. ” 

The motion was carried unanimously. 

‘‘ Secondly, we will be happy.” 

This motion was carried, with even greater 
enthusiasm than the preceding one. 


FBIENDS IN NEED. 


35 


Thirdly/’ put in Phyllis, coroing up be- 
hind her sister, laying her nut-brown head 
on her shoulder, and speaking in tones of 
mock pathos : ‘‘Thirdly, we will never, never 
mention that we have seen better days ! ” 
Thus, with laughing faces, they stood up 
and defied the Fates. 




CHAPTEE III. 

WAYS AND MEANS. 


0 'tis not joy and His not bliss, 

Only it is precisely this 

That keeps us all alive. 

A. H. Clough. 

QO you are really, really going to do it, 

U Gerty?” 

Yes, really, Con.” 

It was the day before the sale, and the 
two girls, Gertrude Lorimer and Constance 
Devonshire were walking round the garden 
together for the last time. It had been a 
day of farewells. Only an hour ago the 
unfortunate Fan had rolled off to Lancaster 
Gate in a brougham belonging to the house 
of Pratt. Lucy was now steaming on her 


TF^Y/S AND MEANS. 


37 


way to the north with Mr. Eussel ; and up- 
stairs Phyllis was packing her boxes before 
setting out for Queen’s Gate with Constance 
and her sister. 

“ If it hadn’t been for Mr. Eussel,” went 
on Gertrude, with enthusiasm, the whole 
thing would have fallen through. Of course, 
all the kind, common-sense people opposed 
the scheme tooth and nail ; Mr. Eussel told 
me in confidence that he had no belief in 
common sense ; that I was to remember 
that, before trusting myself to him in any 
respect.” 

Well, I don’t think that particularly re- 
assuring myself.” 

Gertrude laughed. 

‘‘At least, he has justified it in his own 
case. Delightful person ! he actually ap- 
peared here in the flesh, the very day after 
he wrote. Common sense would never have 
done such a thing as that.” 

“ You are very intolerant, Gertrude.” 

“ Oh, I hope not ! Well, Mr. Eussel in- 
sisted on going straight to the studio, and 
examining our apparatus and our work. He 
turned over everything, remained immersed, 
as it were, in photographs for such a long 
time, and was throughout so silent and so 


38 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP, 

serious, that I grew frightened. At last, 
looking up, he said brusquely : ‘ This is good 
work.’ He talked to us very seriously after 
that. Pointed out to us the inevitable risks, 
the chances of failure which would attend 
such an undertaking as ours ; but wound up 
by saying that it was by no means a prepos- 
terous one, and that for his part, his motto 
through life had always been, ^ nothing ven- 
ture, nothing have.’ ” 

Evidently a person after your own heart, 
Gerty.” 

‘‘ He added, that our best plan would be, 
if possible, to buy the good-will of some 
small business ; but, as we could not afford 
to wait, and as our apparatus was very good 
as far as it went, we must not be discouraged 
if no opportunity of doing so presented itself, 
but had better start in business on our own 
account. Moreover, he says, if the worst 
comes to the worst, we should always be 
able to get employment as assistant photo- 
graphers.” 

But, Gerty, why not do that at first? 
You would be so much more likely to succeed 
in business afterwards,” said Conny, for her 
part no opponent of common sense ; and 
who, despite much superficial frivolity, was 


WAYS AND MEANS. 


39 


at heart a shrewd, far-seeing daughter of the 
City. 

If I said that one was life and the other 
death,” answered Gertrude, with her charm- 
ing smile, “ you would perhaps cuiisider the 
remark unworthy a woman of business. And 
yet I am not sure that it does not state my 
case as well as any other. We want a home 
and an occupation, Conny ; a real, living 
occupation. Think of little Phyllis, for 
instance, trudging by herself to some great 
shop in all weathers and seasons ! ” 

Little Phyllis ! She is bigger than any 
of you, and quite able to take care of 
herself.” 

I wish — it sounds unsisterly — that she 
were not so very good-looking.” 

^‘It’s a good thing there’s no person of 
the other sex to hear you, Gerty. You 
would be made a text for a sermon at 
once.” 

“ ^Felines and Feminines,’ or something 
of the sort ? But here is Phyllis herself.” 

Cool, careless, and debonair, the youngest 
Miss Lorimer advanced towards them; the 
April sunshine reflected in her eyes; the 
tints of the blossoms outrivalled in her 
cheeks. 


40 THE ROMANCE OF A SHOP, 

dear Gertrude,” she said, patronis- 
iugly, ‘‘ do you know that it is twelve 
o’clock, that my boxes are packed and 
locked, and that not a rag of your own is 
put away ? ” 

Gertrude explained that she did not in- 
tend leaving the house till the afternoon, 
but that the other two were to go on at 
once to Queen’s Gate, and not keep Mrs. 
Devonshire waiting for lunch. This, after 
some protest, they consented to do ; and in 
in a few moments Gertrude Lorimer was 
standing alone in the familiar garden, from 
which she was soon to be shut out for ever. 

Pacing slowly up and down the oft-trod- 
den path, she strove to collect her thoughts ; 
to review, at leisure, the events of the last 
few days. Her avowed contempt of the 
popular idol Common Sense notwithstand- 
ing, her mind teemed with practical details, 
with importunate questionings as to ways 
and means. 

These matters seemed more perplexing 
without the calm and soothing influence 
of Lucy^s presence ; for Lucy had been 
borne off by the benevolent and eccentric 
Mr. Eussel for a three-months’ apprentice- 
ship in his own flourishing establishment. 


WAYS AND MEANS. 


41 


I will see that your sister learns some- 
thing of the management of a business, 
besides improving herself in those technical 
points which we have already discussed,” 
had been his parting assurance. “ While, 
as for you, Miss Lorimer, I depend on you 
to look round, and be on a fair way to 
settling down by the time the three months 
are up. Perhaps, one of these days, we shall 
prevail on you to pay us a visit yourself.” 

It had been decided that for the imme- 
diate present Gertrude and Phyllis should 
avail themselves of the Devonshires’ invita- 
tion ; while Fan, borne down by the force 
of a superior will, had been prevailed upon 
to seek a temporary refuge at the house of 
Mrs. Septimus Pratt. 

Poor Aunt Caroline had been really 
shocked and pained by the firm, though 
polite, refusal of her nieces to accept her 
hospitality. Their differences of opinion 
notwithstanding, she could see no adequate 
cause for it. If her skin was thick, her 
heart was not of stone ; and it chagrined 
her to think that her dead sister’s children 
should, at such a time, prefer the house of 
strangers to her own. 

But the young people were obdurate ; 


42 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

and she had had at last to content herself 
with Fan, who was a poor creature, and 
only a spurious sort of relation after all. 

Reviewing one by one all those facts 
which bore upon her present case ; setting 
in order her thoughts ; and gathering up 
her energies for the fight to come ; Gertrude 
felt her pulses throb, and her bosom glow 
with resolve. - 

Of the darker possibilities of human 
nature and of life, this girl — who believed 
herself old, and experienced — had no 
knowledge, save such as had come to 
her in brief flashes of insight, in passing 
glimpses scarcely realised or remembered. 
Even had circumstances given her leisure, 
she was not a woman to have brooded over 
the one personal injury which had been 
dealt her ; her pride was too deep and too 
delicate for this ; rather she recoiled from 
the thought of it, as from an unclean contact. 

If the arching forehead and mobile face 
bespoke imagination and keen sensibilities, 
the square jaw and resolute mouth gave 
token, no less, of strength and self-control. 

“ And all her sorrow shall be turned to labour,” 

said Gertrude to herself, half- unconsciously. 


WAYS AND MEANS, 


43 


Then something within her laughed in 
scornful protest. Sorrow ? on this spring 
day, with the young life coursing in her 
veins, with all the world before her, an 
undiscovered country of purple mists and 
boundless possibilities. 

There were hints of a vague delight in 
the sweet, keen air ; whisperings, promises, 
that had nothing to do with pyrogalhc acid 
and acetate of soda ; with the processes 
of developing, fixing, or intensifying. 

A great laburnum tree stood at one end 
of the lawn, half-fiowered and faintly 
golden; a blossoming almond neighboured 
it, and beyond, rose a gnarled old apple 
tree, pink with buds. Birds were piping 
and calling to one another from all the 
branches ; the leaves of the trees, the lawn, 
the shrubs, and bushes, wore the vivid 
and delicate verdure of early spring ; life 
throbbed, and pulsed, and thrust itself forth 
in every available spot. 

Gertrude, as we know, was by way of 
being a poet. She had a rebellious heart 
that cried out, sometimes very inoppor- 
tunely, for happiness. 

And now, as she drank in the wonders of 
that April morning, she found herself sud- 


44 


THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 


denly assailed and overwhelmed by a name- 
less rapture, an extreme longing, half- 
hopeful, half- despairing. 

Sorrow, labour ; what had she to do 
with these ? 

“ I love all things that thou lovest 
Spirit of delight ! ’’ 

cried the voices within her, with one 
accord. 

‘‘Please, Miss,” said Kettle, suddenly 
appearing, and scattering the thronging 
visions rather rudely ; “ the people have 
come from the Pantechnicon about those 
cameras, and the other things you said was 
to go.” 

“ Yes, yes,” answered Gertrude, rubbing 
her eyes and wrinkling her brows — curious, 
characteristic brows they were; straight 
and thick, and converging slightly upwards — 
“ everything that is to go is ready packed 
in the studio.” 

They had decided on retaining a little 
furniture, besides the photographic appa- 
ratus and studio fittings, for the establish- 
ment of the new home, wherever and 
whatever it should be. 


WAYS AND MEANS. 


45 


Very well, Miss Gertrude. And shall 
I bring you up a little luncheon ? ” 

No, thank you. Kettle. And I must say 
good-bye, and thank you for all your kind- 
ness to us.” 

‘‘ God bless you. Miss Gertrude, every 
one of you ! I have made so bold as to 
give my address -card to Miss Phyllis ; 
and if there’s anything in which I can 
ever be of service, don’t you think twice 
about it, but write off at once to Jonah 
Kettle.” 

Overcome by his own eloquence, and 
without waiting for a reply, the old man 
shuffled off down the path, leaving Ger- 
trude strangely touched by this unexpected 
demonstration. 

We resolved not to be cynical,” she 
thought. ‘^Cynical! What is the mean- 
ing of the current commonplaces as to 
loss of friends with loss of fortune ? How 
did they arise ? What perverseness of 
vision could have led to the creation of 
such a person as Timon of Athens, for 
instance ? If misery parts the flux of com- 
pany, surely it is the miserable people’s 
own fault.” 

Balancing the mass of friends in need 


46 


TEE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 


against one who was only a fair-weather 
friend, Gertrude refused to allow her faith 
in humanity to be shaken. 

Ah, Gertrude, but it is early days ! 




CHAPTEE IV. 

NUMBEE TWENTY B. 


Bravant le monde et les sots et les sagesj 
Sans aveniVf riche de mon pnntenips, 

L’este et joy eux je montais six Stages ^ 

Dans un grenier qu’on est hien a vingt ans ! 

Berangee. 

T he LOEIMEES’ tenacity of purpose, 
backed by Mr. EusseFs support and 
countenance, at last succeeded in procuring 
them a respectful hearing from the few 
friends and relatives who had a right to be 
interested in their affairs. 

Aunt Caroline, shifting her ground, ceased 
to talk of the scheme as beneath contempt, 
but denounced it as dangerous and un- 
womanly. 

She spoke freely of loss of caste ; damage 


48 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

to prospects — vague and delicate posses- 
sion of the female sex — and of the com- 
plicated evils which must necessarily arise 
from an undertaking so completely devoid 
of chaperons. 

Uncle Septimus said little, but managed 
to convey to his nieces quiet marks of sup- 
port and sympathy ; while the Devonshires, 
after much preliminary opposition, had 
ended by throwing themselves, like the 
excellent people they were, heart and soul 
into the scheme. 

To Constance, indeed, the change in her 
friends’ affairs may be said to have come, 
like the Waverley pen, as a boon and a 
blessing. She was the somebody to whom 
their ill wind, though she knew it not, was 
blowing good. 

Like many girls of her class, she had 
good faculties, abundant vitality, and no 
interests but frivolous ones. And with the 
wealthy middle-classes, even the social 
business is apt to be less unintermittent, 
less absorbing, than with the better born 
seekers after pleasure. 

Her friendship with the Lorimers, with 
Gertrude especially, may be said to have 
represented the one serious element in 


NUMBER TWENTY B. 


49 


Constance Devonshire’s life. And now she 
threw herself with immense zeal and de- 
votion into the absorbing business of house- 
hunting, on which, for the time being, all 
Gertrude’s thoughts were centred. 

After the sale, and the winding up (mys- 
terious process) of poor Mr. Lorimer’s 
affairs, it was intimated to the girls that 
they were the joint possessors of <£600 ; not 
a large sum, when regarded as almost the 
entire fortune of four people, but slightly in 
excess of that which they had been led to 
expect. I said almost, for it must not be 
forgotten that Fanny had a modest income 
of £50 coming to her from her mother, of 
which the principal was tied up from her 
reach. 

There was nothing now to do but to 
choose their quarters, settle down in them, 
and begin the enterprise on which they were 
bent. 

For many weary days, Gertrude and 
Conny, sometimes accompanied by Fred or 
Mr. Devonshire, paced the town from end 
to end, laden with sheaves of “ orders to 
view ” from innumerable house-agents. 

Phyllis was too delicate for such expe- 
ditions, and sat at home with Mrs. Devon- 
5 


50 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

shire, or drove out shopping; amiable but 
ironical ; buoyant but never exuberant ; the 
charming child that everybody conspired to 
spoil, that everybody instinctively screened 
from all unpleasantness. 

One day, the two girls came back to 
Queen’s Gate in a state of considerable 
excitement. 

It certainly is the most likely place we 
have seen,” said Gertrude, as she sipped 
her tea, and blinked at the fire with dazzled, 
short-sighted eyes. 

“But such miles away from South Ken- 
sington,” grumbled Conny, unfastening her 
rich cloak, and falling upon the cake with 
all the appetite born of honest labour. 

“And the rent is a little high; but Mr. 
Kussel says it would be bad economy to 
start in some cheap, obscure place.” 

“So we are to flaunt expensively,” said 
Phyllis, lightly; “ but all this is very vague, 
is it not Mrs. Devonshire ? Please be more 
definite, Gerty dear.” 

“We have been looking at some rooms 
in Upper Baker Street,” explained Gertrude, 
addressing her hostess ; “ there are two 
floors to be let unfurnished, above a 
chemist’s shop.” 


NUMBER TWENTY B. 


51 


^^Two floors, . and what else?’' cried 
Conny ; ^'you will never guess! Actually 
a photographer’s studio built out from the 
house.” 

Mrs. Devonshire disapproved secretly of 
their scheme, and had only been won over 
to countenance it after days of persuasion. 

“ Some one has been failing in business 
there,” she said, or why should the studio 
stand empty? ” 

The girls felt this to be a little unreason- 
able, but Gertrude only laughed, and said : 
‘‘No, but somebody has been dying. Our 
predecessor in business died last year.” 

“ At least we should be provided with a 
ghost at once,” said Phyllis; “ I suppose if 
we go there we shall be ‘ Lorimer, late 
so-and-so ? ’ ” 

“What ghouls you two are!” objected 
Conny, with a shudder; then resumed the 
more practical part of the conversation. 
“ The studio is in rather a dilapidated con- 
dition ; but if it were not it would only 
count for more in the rent ; it has to be 
paid for one way or another.” 

“ There are a great many photographers 
in Baker Street already,” demurred Mrs. 
Devonshire. 


52 THE BOMAN€E OF A SHOP. 

She liked the Lorimers, but feared them 
as companiouiS for her daughter ; there wa& 
DiO knowing on what wild freak they might 
lead Constance to embark. 

“But, Mrs. Devonshire,'’ protested Ger- 
trude, with great eagerness, “ I am told 
that it is the right thing for people of the 
same trade to congregate together; they 
combine, as it were, to make a centre, which 
comes to be regarded as the emporium of 
their particular wares.” 

Gertrude laughed at her own phrases, and 
Phyllis said : 

“Don’t look so poetical over it all, Gerty ! 
Your hat has found its way to the back of 
your head, and there is a general look of 
inspiration about you.” 

She straightened the hat as she spoke, 
and put back the straggling wisps of 
hair. 

“ There is no bath-room ! ” went on 
Conny, sternly. She had a love of practical 
details and small opportunity for indulging 
it, except with regard to her own costume ; 
and now she proceeded to plunge into elabo- 
rate statements on the subject of hot water, 
and the practicability of having it brought 
up in cans. 


NUMBER TWENTY B. 


53 


The end of it was that an expedition to 
Baker Street was organised for the next 
day ; when the whole party drove across 
the park to that pleasant, if unfashionable, 
region, for the purpose of inspecting the 
hopeful premises. 

It was a chill, bright afternoon, and not- 
withstanding that it was the end of May, 
the girls wore their vanter cloaks, and Mrs. 
Devonshire her furs. 

What number did you say, Gertrude ? ” 
asked Phyllis, as the carriage turned into 
New Street, from Gloucester Place. 

‘‘ Twenty B.” 

As they came into Baker Street, a young 
man, slim, high* coloured, dark-haired, darted 
out, with some impetuosity, from the post- 
office at the corner, and raised his hat as his 
eye fell on the approaching carriage. 

Constance bowed, colouring slightly. 

‘‘ Who is your friend, Conny ? ” said her 
mother. 

Oh, a man I meet sometimes at dances. 
I believe his name is Jermyn. He dances 
rather well.” 

Conny spoke with somewhat exaggerated 
indifference, and the colour on her cheek 
deepened perceptibly. 


54 THE BOMAHCE OF A SHOP. 

Here we are ! ” cried Phyllis. 

The carriage had drawn up before a small, 
but flourishing-looking shop, above which 
was painted in gold letters ; Mary on ; Phar- 
maceutical Chemist. 

“This is it.” 

Gertrude spoke with curious intensity, 
and her heart beat fast as they dismounted 
and rang the hell. 

Mrs. Maryon, the chemist’s wife, a thin, 
thoughtful-looking woman of middle-age, 
with a face at once melancholy and benevo- 
lent, opened the door to them herself, and 
conducted them over the apartments. 

They went up a short flight of stairs, then 
stopped before the opening of a narrow 
passage, adorned with Virginia cork and 
coloured glass. 

“We will look at the studio flrst, please,” 
said Gertrude, and they all trooped down 
the little, sloping passage. 

“ Eeminds one forcibly of a summer-house 
at a tea-garden, doesn’t it ? ” said Phyllis, 
turning her pretty head from side to side. 
They laughed, and the melancholy woman 
was seen to smile. 

Beyond the passage was a little room, 
designed, no doubt, for a waiting or dressing- 


NUMBER TWENTY B. 


55 


room ; and beyond this, divided by an aper- 
ture, evidently intended for curtains, came 
the studio itself, a fair- sized glass structure, 
in some need of repair. 

“ You will have to make this place as 
pretty as possible,” said Conny ; “you will 
be nothing if not aesthetic. And now for 
the rooms.” 

The floor immediately above the shop 
had been let to a dressmaker, and it was 
the two upper floors which stood vacant. 

On the first of these was a fair-sized room 
with two windows, looking out on the street, 
divided by folding doors from a smaller 
room with a corner fire-place. 

“This would make a capital sitting-room,” 
said Conny, marching up and down the 
larger apartment. 

“And this,” cried Gertrude, from behind 
the folding-doors, which stood ajar, “ could 
be fitted up beautifully as a kitchen.” 

“You will have to have a kitchen-range, 
my dears,” remarked Mrs. Devonshire, who 
was becoming deeply interested, and whose 
spirits, moreover, were rising under the 
sense that here, at least, she could speak to 
the young people from the heights of know- 
ledge and experience ; “ and water will have 


56 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP, 

to be laid on ; and yon will certainly need a 
sink.” 

This grey wall-paper,” went on Conny, 
“is not pretty, but at least it is inoffen- 
sive.” 

“And the possibilities for evil of wall- 
papers being practically infinite, I suppose 
we must be thankful for small mercies in 
that respect,” answered Gertrude, emerging 
from her projected kitchen, and beginning 
to examine the uninteresting decoration in 
her short-sighted fashion. 

Upstairs were three rooms, capable of 
accommodating four people as bed-rooms, 
and which bounded the little domain. 

Mr. and Mrs. Mary on and their servant 
inhabited the basement and the parlour 
behind the shop; and it was suggested by 
the chemist’s wife that, for the present at 
least, the ladies might like to enter on some 
arrangement for sharing Matilda’s services ; 
the duties of that maiden, as matters now 
stood, not being nearly enough to fill up her 
time. 

“That w'ould suit us admirably,” answered 
Gertrude ; “for we intend to do a great deal 
of the work ourselves.” 

They drove away in hopeful mood ; Mrs. 


NUMBEB TWENTY B. 57 

Devonshire as much interested as any of 
them. It took, of course, some days 
before they were able to come to a final 
decision on the subject of the rooms. 
Various persons had to be consulted, and 
various matters inquired into. Mr. Eussel 
came flying down from the north directly 
Gertrude’s letter reached him. He surveyed 
the premises in his rapid, accurate fashion ; 
entered into details with immense serious- 
ness ; pronounced in favour of taking the 
apartments ; gave a glowing account of 
Lucy ; and rushed off to catch his train. 

A few days afterwards the Lorimers found 
themselves the holders of a lease, terminable 
at one, three, or seven years, for a studio 
and upper part of the house, known as 20b, 
Upper Baker Street. 

Then followed a period of absorbing and 
unremitting toil. All through the sweefc 
June month the girls laboured at setting 
things in order in the new home. Ex- 
pense being a matter of vital consequence, 
they endeavoured to do everything, within 
the limits of possibility, themselves. Work- 
men were of course needed for repairing 
the studio and fitting the kitchen fire- 
place, but their services were dispensed 


58 TEE BOMANCE OF A SHOP, 

■with in almost every other case. The fur- 
niture stored at the Pantechnicon proved 
more than enough for their present needs ; 
Gertrude and Conny between them laid 
down the carpets and hung up the cur- 
tains; and Fred, revealing an unsuspected 
talent for carpentering, occupied his leisure 
moments in providing the household with 
an unlimited quantity of shelves. 

Indeed, the spectacle of that gorgeous 
youth hammering away in his shirt sleeves 
on a pair of steps, his immaculate hat and 
coat laid by, his gardenia languishing in 
some forgotten nook, was one not easily to 
be overlooked or forgotten. It was necessary, 
of course, to buy some additional stock-in- 
trade, and this Mr. Eussel undertook to pro- 
cure for them at tlie lowest possible rates ; 
adding, on his own behalf, a large burnish- 
ing machine. The girls had hitherto been 
accustomed to have their prints rolled for 
them by the Stereoscopic Company. 

In their own rooms everything was of 
the simplest, but a more ambitious style of 
decoration was attempted in the studio. 

The objectionable Virginia cork and 
coloured glass of the little passage were dis- 
guised by various aesthetic devices ; lanterns 


NUMBEB TWENTY B. 59 

swung from the roof, and a framed photo- 
graph or two from Diirer and Botticelli, 
Watts and Burne-Jones, was mingled art- 
fully with the specimens of their own work 
which adorned it as a matter of course. 

A little cheap Japanese china, and a few 
red-legged tables and chairs converted the 
waiting-room, as Phyllis said, into a perfect 
bower of art and culture ; while Fred con- 
tributed so many rustic windows, stiles and 
canvas backgrounds to the studio, that his 
bankruptcy was declared on all sides to he 
imminent. 

Over the street-door was fixed a large 
black hoard, on which w^as painted in gold 
letters : 

G. & L. Loeimer : The Photographic Studio 

and in the doorway was displayed a show- 
case, whose most conspicuous feature was a 
cabinet portrait of Fred Devonshire, looking, 
with an air of mingled archness and shame- 
facedness, through one of his own elaborate 
lattices in Virginia cork. 

The Maryons surveyed these preparations 
from afar with a certain amused compas- 
sion, an incredulous kindliness, which were 
rather exasperating. 


<50 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

Like most people of their class, they had 
seen too much of the ups and downs of life 
to he astonished at anything ; and the sight 
of these ladies playing at photographers and 
house decorators, 'was only one more scene 
in the varied and curious drama of life 
which it was their lot to witness. 

I wish,” said Gertrude, one day, that 
Mrs. Maryon were not such a pessimist.” 

She is rather like Gilbert’s patent hag 
who comes out and prophesies disaster,” 
answered Phyllis. She always thinks it is 
going to rain, and nothing surprises her so 
much as when a parcel arrives in time.” 

And she is so very kind with it all.” 

The sisters hadb^en alone in Baker Street 
that morning ; Constance being engaged 
in having a ball-dress tried on at Eussell 
and Allen’s ; and now Gertrude was about 
to set out for the British Museum, where 
she was going through a course of photo- 
graphic reading, under the direction of Mr. 
Eussel. 

‘‘Look,” cried Phyllis, as they emerged 
from the house ; “ there goes Conn5^’s im- 
petuous friend. I have found out that 
he lodges just opposite us, over the 
auctioneer’s.” 


NUMBER TWENTY B. G1 

‘‘What busybodies you long-sighted 
people always are, Phyllis ! ” 

At Baker Street Station they parted ; 
Phyllis disappearing to the underground 
railway ; Gertrude mounting boldly to the 
top of an Atlas omnibus. 

“Because one cannot afford a carriage or 
even a hansom cab,” she argued to herself, 
“ is one to be shut up away from the sun- 
light and the streets ? ” 

Indeed, for Gertrude, the humours of the 
town had always possessed a curious 
fascination. She contemplated the familiar 
London pageant with an interest that 
had something of passion in it ; and, for 
her part, was never inclined to quarrel with 
the fate which had transported her from 
the comparative tameness of Campden Hill 
to regions where the pulses of the great 
city could be felt distinctly as they beat 
and throbbed. 

By the end of June the premises in Upper 
Baker Street were quite ready for occupa- 
tion ; but Gertrude and Phyllis decided to 
avail themselves of some of their numerous 
invitations, and strengthen themselves for 
the coming tussle with fortune with three 
or four weeks of country air. 


62 THE ROMANCE OF A SHOP. 

At last there came a memorable evening^ 
late in July, when the four sisters met for 
the first time under the roof which they 
hoped was to shelter them for many years 
to come. 

Gertrude and Phyllis arrived early in the 
day from Scarborough, where they had been 
staying with the Devonshires, and at about 
six o’clock Fanny appeared in a four-wheel 
cab ; she had been borne off to Tunbridge 
Wells by the Pratts, some six weeks before. 

When she had given vent to her delight 
at rejoining her sisters, and had inspected 
the new home, Phyllis led her upstairs to 
the bedroom, Gertrude remaining below 
in the sitting-room, which she paced with 
a curious excitement, an irrepressible rest- 
lessness. 

“ Poor old Fan ! ” said Phyllis, re-appear- 
ing ; I don’t think she was ever so pleased 
at seeing any one before.” 

“ Fancy, all these months with Aunt 
Caroline !” 

“ She says little,” went on Phylhs ; but 
from the few remarks dropped, I should say 
that her sufferings had been pretty severe.” 

Yes,” answered Gertrude, absently. The 
last remark had fallen on unheeding ears ; 


NUMBER TWENTY B. 


63 


her attention was entirely absorbed by a cab 
which had stopped before the door. One 
moment, and she was on the stairs ; the 
next, she and Lucy were in one another’s 
arms. 

Oh, Gerty, is it a hundred years ? ” 

“ Thousands, Lucy. How well you look, 
and I believe you have grown.” 

Up and down, hand in hand, went the 
sisters, into every nook and corner of the 
small domain, exclaiming, explaining, ask- 
ing and answering a hundred questions. 

Oh, Lucy,” cried Gertrude, in a burst of 
enthusiasm, as they stood together in the 
studio, this is work, this is life. I think 
we have never worked or lived before.” 

Fan and Phyllis came rustling between 
the curtains to join them. 

^^Here we all are,” went on Gertrude. 

I hope nobody is afraid, but that every one 
understands that this is no bed of roses we 
have prepared for ourselves.” 

We shall have to work like niggers, and 
not have very much to eat. I think we all 
realise that,” said Lucy, with an encourag- 
ing smile. 

“Plain living and high thinking,” ven- 
tured Fanny ; then grew overwhelmed with 



C4 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

confusion at her own unwonted brilli- 
ancy. 

“At least,” said Phyllis, “we can all of 
us manage the plain living. And as a 
beginning, I vote we go upstairs to supper.” 





CHAPTEE V. 

THIS WOEKING-DAT WOELD. 


0 the pity of it, 

Othello. 

I F a sudden reverse of fortune need not 
make us cynical, there is perhaps no 
other experience which brings us face to 
face so quickly and so closely with the 
realities of life. 

The Lorimers, indeed, had no great 
cause for complaint ; and perhaps, in con- 
demning the Timons of this world, forgot 
that, as interesting young women, embarked 
moreover on an interesting enterprise, they 
were not themselves in a position to gauge 
the full depths of mundane perfidy. 

Of course, after a time, they dropped off 
from the old set, from the people with whom 
their intercourse had been a mere matter 
6 


6G THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

of social commerce; but, as Phyllis justly 
observed, when you have no time to pay 
calls, no clothes to your back, no money 
for cabs, and very little for omnibuses, you 
can hardly expect your career to be an un- 
broken course of festivities. 

On the other hand, many of their friends 
drew closer to them in the hour of need, 
and a great many good-natured acquaint- 
ances amused themselves by patronising the 
studio in Upper Baker Street, and recom- 
mending other people to go and do likewise. 

Certainly these latter exacted a good deal 
for their money ; were restive when posed, 
expected the utmost excellence of work 
and punctuality of delivery, and, like most 
of the Lorimers’ customers, seemed to think 
the sex of the photographers a ground for 
greater cheapness in the photographs. 

One evening, towards the middle of 
October, the girls had assembled for the 
evening meal — it could not, strictly speak- 
ing, be called dinner — in the little sitting- 
room above the shop. 

They were all tired, for the moment dis- 
couraged, and had much ado to maintain 
that cheerfulness which they held it a point 
of honour never to abandon. 


THIS WOBKING-DAY WORLD. ' 67 

“How the evenings do draw in ! ” observed 
Fan, who sat near the window, engaged in 
fancy-work. 

Fanny’s housekeeping, by the way, had 
been tried, and found wanting; and the 
poor lady had, with great delicacy, been 
relegated to the vague duty of creating an 
atmosphere of home for her more strong- 
minded sisters. Fortunately, she believed 
in the necessity of a thoroughly womanly 
presence among them, womanliness being 
apparently represented to her mind by any 
number of riband bows on the curtains, 
antimacassars on the chairs, and strips of 
embroidered plush on every available article 
of furniture; and accepted the situation 
without misgiving. 

“ Yes,^’ answered Lucy, rather dismally ; 
“we shall soon have the winter in full 
swing, fogs and all.” 

She had been up to the studio of an artist 
at St. John’s Wood that morning, making 
photographs of various studies of drapery 
for a big picture, and the results, when 
examined in the dark-room later on, had 
not been satisfactory ; hence her unusual 
depression of spirits. 

“For goodness’ sake, Lucy, don’t speak 


68 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

in that tone!” cried Phyllis, who was 
standing idly by the window. What does 
it matter about Mr. Lawrence’s draperies ? 
Nobody ever buys his pokey pictures. 
You’ve not been the same person ever 
since you developed those plates this after- 
noon.” 

‘‘Don’t- you see, Phyllis, Mr. Eussel 
introduced us to him ; and besides, though 
he is obscure himself, he might recommend 
us to other artists if the work was well 
done.” 

“ Oh, bother 1 Come over here, Lucy. 
Do you see that lighted window opposite ? 
It is Conny’s Mr. Jermyn’s.” 

“ What an interesting fact 1 ” 

“ Conny said he danced well. I wish he 
would come and dance with us sometimes. 
It is ages and ages since I had a really good 
waltz.” 

“Phyllis! do you forget that you are in 
mourning?” cried Fanny, shocked, as she 
moved towards the table, where Lucy had 
lit the lamp. 

Gertrude came through the folding-doors 
bearing a covered dish. Her aspect also 
was undeniably dejected. Business had 
been slacker, if possible, than usual, during 


THIS WOBKING-BAY WOBLD. G9 

the past week ; regarded from no point 
of view could their prospects he considered 
brilliant ; and, to crown all, Aunt Caroline 
had paid them a visit in the course of the 
day, in which she had propounded some 
very direct questions as to the state of iheir 
finances ; questions which it had been both 
difficult to answer and difficult to evade. 

Phyllis ceased her chatter, which she saw 
at once to be out of harmony with the 
prevailing mood, and took her place in 
silence at the table.. 

At the same moment the studio - bell 
echoed with considerable violence through- 
out the house. 

‘‘What can any one want this time of 
night ? ” cried Pan, in some agitation. 

“ They must have pulled the wrong bell,” 
said Lucy; “but one of us had better go 
down and see.” 

Gertrude lighted a candle, and went 
downstairs, and tlje rest proceeded rather 
silently with their meal. 

In about five minutes Gertrude re-ap- 
peared with a grave face. 

“Well? ” 

They all questioned her, with lips and 
eyes. 


70 THE EOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

Some one has been here about work,” 
she said, slowly; ‘'but it’s rather a dismal 
sort of job. It is to photograph a dead 
person.” 

“ Gerty, what do you mean ? ” 

“ Oh, I believe it is quite usual. A lady 
— Lady Watergate — died to-day, and her 
husband wishes the body to he photographed 
to-morrow morning.” 

“It is very strange,” said Fanny, “that 
he should select ladies, young girls, for such 
a piece of work ! ” 

“ Oh, it was a mere chance. It was the 
housekeeper who came, and we happened to 
he the first photographer’s shop she passed. 
She seemed to think I might not like it, but 
we cannot afford to refuse work.” 

“But, Gertrude,” cried Fan, “do you 
know what Lady Watergate died of? Per- 
haps scarlet fever, or smallpox, or something 
of the sort.” 

“ She died of consumption,” said Ger- 
trude shortly, and put her arm round 
Phyllis, who was listening with a curious 
look in her great, dilated eyes. 

“ I wonder,” put in Lucy, “ if this poor 
lady can be the wife of the Lord Water- 
gate ? ” 


THIS WOBKING-DAY WOBLD. 71 

“ I rather fancy so ; I know he lives in 
Eegent’s Park, and the address for to-morrow 
is Sussex Place.” 

A name so well known in the scientific 
and literary world was of course familiar to 
the Lorimers. They had, however, little 
personal acquaintance with distinguished 
people, and had never come across the 
learned and courteous peer in his social 
capacity, his frequent presence in certain 
middle-class circles notwithstanding. 

Mrs. Maryon, coming up later on for a 
chat, under pretext of discussing the un- 
satisfactory Matilda, was informed of the 
new commission. 

“Ah,” she said, shaking her head, “it 
was a sad story that of the Watergates.” 
So passionately fond of her as he had been, 
and then for her to treat him like that ! 
But he took her back at the last and for- 
gave her everything, like the great-hearted 
gentleman that he was. “And do you 
mean,” she added, fixing her melancholy, 
humorous eyes on them, “ that you young 
ladies are actually going by yourselves to 
the house to make a picture of the 
body?” 

“I am going — no one else,” answered 


72 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

Gertrude calmly, passing over Phyllis’s 
avowed intention of accompanying her. 

“ She always has some dreadful tale about 
everybody you mention,” cried Lucy, indig- 
nantly, when Mrs. Maryon had gone. “ She 
will never rest content until there is some- 
thing dreadful to tell of us.” 

‘'Yes, Pm sure she regards us as so many 
future additions to her Chamber of Horrors,” 
said Phyllis, reflectively, with a smile. 

“ And oh,” added Pan, “ if she would only 
not compare us so constantly with that 
poor man who had the studio last year ! It 
makes one positively creep.” 

“Nonsense,” said Gertrude; “she is 
quite as fond of pleasant events as sad ones. 
Weddings, for instance, she describes with 
as much unction as funerals.” 

“We will certainly do our best to add to 
her stock of tales in that respect,” cried 
Phyllis, with an odd burst of high spirits. 
“Who votes for getting married? I do. 
So do you, don’t you. Fan? It must be 
such fun to have one’s favourite man drop- 
ping in on one every evening.” 

* ^ ^ ^ ^ 

At an early hour the next morning, 
Gertrude Lorimer started on her errand. 


THIS WOBKING-DAY WOBLD. 73 

She went alone ; Lucy of course must 
remain in the studio ; Phyllis was in bed 
with a headache, and Fan was ministering 
to her numerous wants. As she passed 
out, laden with her apparatus, Mdlle. Ste- 
phanie, the big, sallow Frenchwoman who 
occupied the first fioor, entered the house 
and grinned a vivacious Bon jour T' 

A fine, bright morning for your work, 
miss 1 ” cried the chemist from his door- 
step ; while his wife stood at his side, 
smiling curiously. 

Gertrude went on her way with a 
considerable sinking of the heart. She 
had no difficulty in finding Sussex Place ; 
indeed, she had often remarked it ; the 
white curve of houses with the columns, 
the cupolas, and the railed-in space of 
garden which fronted the Park. 

Lord Watergate’s house was situated 
about midway in the terrace. Gertrude, on 
arriving, was shown into a large dining- 
room, darkened by blinds, and decorated in 
each gloomy corner by greenish figures of 
a pseudo-classical nature, which ' served the 
purpose of supports to the gas-globes. 

At least a quarter of an hour elapsed 
before the appearance of the housekeeper. 


74 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

who ushered her up the darkened stairs to 
a large room on the second storey. 

Here the blinds had been raised, and for 
a moment Gertrude was too dazzled to he 
aware with any clearness of her surroundings. 

As her eyes grew accustomed to the light, 
she perceived herself to be standing in a 
daintily-furnished sleeping apartment, whose 
open windows afforded glimpses of an un- 
broken prospect of wood, and lawn, and 
water. 

Drawn forward to the middle of the room, 
well within the light from the windows, was 
a small, open bedstead of wrought brass. 
A woman lay, to all appearance, sleeping 
there, the bright October sunlight falling 
full on the upturned face, on the spread 
and shining masses of matchless golden 
hair. A woman no longer in her first youth ; 
haggard with sickness, pale with the last 
strange pallor, but beautiful withal, ex- 
quisitely, astonishingly beautiful. 

Another figure, that of a man, was seated 
by the window, in a pose as fixed, as 
motionless, as that of the dead woman 
herself. 

Gertrude, as she silently made prepara- 
tions for her strange task, instinctively 


THIS WOBKING-DAY WOBLD. 75 

refrained from glancing in the direction of 
this second figure ; and had only the 
vaguest impression of a dark, bowed head, 
and a bearded, averted face. 

She delivered a few necessary directions 
to the housekeeper, in the lowest audible 
voice, then, her faculties stimulated to 
curious accuracy, set to work with camera 
and slides. 

As she stood, her apparatus gathered up, 
on the point of departure, the man by the 
window rose suddenly, and for the first time 
seemed aware of her presence. 

For one brief, but vivid moment, her 
eyes encountered the glance of two miser- 
able grey eyes, looking out with a sort of 
dazed wonder from a pale and sunken face. 
The broad forehead, projecting over the 
eyes ; the fine, but rough-hewn features ; 
the brown hair and beard; the tall, stoop- 
ing, sinewy figure : these together formed a 
picture which imprinted itself as by a flash 
on Gertrude’s overwrought consciousness, 
and was destined not to fade for many days 
to come. 

They are some of the best work you 
have ever done, Gerty,” cried Phyllis, 


76 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

peering over her sister’s shoulder. The 
habits of this young person, as we know, 
resembled those of the lilies of the field; 
but she chose to pervade the studio when 
nothing better ofi’ered itself, and in moments 
of boredom even to occupy herself with 
some of the more pleasant work. 

Gertrude looked thoughtfully at the prints 
in her hand. They represented a woman 
lying dead or asleep, with her hair spread 
out on the pillow. 

Yes,” she said, slowly, “ they have 
succeeded better than I expected. Of 
course the light was not all that could 
he wished.” 

Poor thing,” said Phyllis; what per- 
fect features she has. Mrs. Maryon told us 
she was wicked, didn’t she ? But I don’t 
know that it matters about being good when 
you are as beautiful as all that.” 




CHAPTEE VI. 

TO THE EESCUE. 


We studied hard in our styles^ 

Chipped each at a crust like BindooSy 
For aivy looked out on the tilesy 

For fully matched each other's windows. 

E. Beowning. 

M e. feedeeick devonshiee, i 

positively refuse to minister any 
longer to such gross egotism ! You’ve 
been cabinetted, vignetted, and carte de 
visited. You’ve been taken in a snow- 
storm; you’ve been taken looking out of 
window, drinking afternoon tea, and doing 
I don’t know what else. If your vanity 
still remains unsatisfied, you must get 
another firm to gorge it for you.” 

^‘You’re a nice woman of business, you 
are ! Turning money away from the doors 


78 THE BOMAHCE OF A SHOP. 

like this,” chuckled Fred. Lucy’s simple 
badinage appealed to him as the raciest 
witticisms would probably have failed to 
do ; it seemed to him almost on a par 
with the brilliant verbal coruscations of 
his cherished Sporting Times. 

Our business,” answered Lucy de- 
murely, ‘‘is conducted on the strictest 
principles. We always let a gentleman 
know when he has had as much as is 
good for him.” 

“Oh, I say!” Fred appeared to be 
completely bowled over by what he would 
have denominated as this “ side-splitter,” 
and gave vent to an unearthly howl of 
merriment. 

“Whatever is the matter?” cried his 
sister, entering the sitting-room. She and 
Gertrude had just come up together from 
the studio, where Conny had been pour- 
ing out her soul as to the hollowness of 
the world, a fact she was in the habit 
periodically of discovering. “ Fred, what 
a shocking noise 1 ” 

“ Oh, shut up, Con, and let a fellow 
alone,” grumbled Fred, subsiding into a 
chair. “ Conny’s been dancing every night 
this week — making me take her, too, by 


TO THE BESCUE. 


79 


Jove! — and now, if you please, she’s got 
hot coppers.” 

Miss Devonshire deigned no reply to 
these remarks, and Phyllis, who, like all 
of them, was accustomed to occasional 
sparring between the brother and sister, 
threw herself into the breach. 

“ You’re the very creature I want, Conny,” 
she cried. “ Come over here ; perhaps you 
can enlighten me about the person who in- 
terests me more than any one in the world.” 

“Phyllis!” protested Fan, who under- 
stood the allusion. 

“ It’s your man opposite,” went on 
Phyllis, unabashed; “Lucy and I are 
longing to know all about him. There 
he is on the doorstep ; why, he only 
went out half an hour ago ! ” 

“ That fellow,” said Fred, with unutter- 
able contempt ; “ that foreign-looking chap 
whom Conny dances half the night with ? ” 

“ Foreign - looking,” said Phyllis, “I 
should just think he was ! Why, he might 
have stepped straight out of a Venetian 
portrait ; a Tintoretto, a Bordone, any one 
of those mellow people.” 

“ Only as regards colouring,” put in 
Lucy, whose interest in the subject ap- 


80 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

peared to be comparatively mild. “ I don’t 
believe those old Venetian nobles dashed 
about in that headlong fashion. I often 
wonder what his business can be that 
keeps him running in and out all day.” 

Fortunately for Constance, the fading 
light of the December afternoon concealed 
the fact that' she was blushing furiously, as 
she replied coolly enough, Oh, Frank 
Jermyn ? he’s an artist ; works chiefly in 
black and white for the illustrated papers, 
I think. He and another man have a 
studio in York Place together.” 

Is he an Englishman ? ” 

“ Yes ; his people are Cornish clergy- 
men.” 

‘‘All of them? ‘What, all his pretty 
ones ? ’ ” cried Phyllis ; “ but you are very 
interesting, Conny, to-day. Poor fellow, he 
looks a little lonely sometimes; although 
he has a great many oddly-assorted pals.” 

“ By the bye,” went on Conny, still 
maintaining her severely neutral tone, 
“ he mentioned the photographic studio, 
and wanted to know all about ‘ G. and 
L. Lorimer.’ ” 

“Did you tell him,” answered Phyllis, 
“ that if you lived opposite four beautiful. 


TO THE BESCUE. 


81 


fallen princesses, who kept a photographer’s 
shop, you would at least call and he photo- 
graphed.” 

It is so much nicer of him that he does 
not,” said Lucy, with decision. 

Phyllis struck an attitude : 

“ It might have been, once only, 

We lodged in a street together ...” 

she began, then stopped short suddenly. 

What a thundering row ! ” said Fred. 

A curious, scuffling sound, coming from 
the room below, was distinctly audible. 

Mdlle. Stephanie appears to he giving 
an afternoon dance,” said Lucy. 

‘‘ I will go and see if anything is the 
matter,” remarked Gertrude, rising. 

As a matter of fact she snatched eagerly 
at this opportunity for separating herself 
from this group of idle chatterers. She 
was tired, dispirited, beset with a hundred 
anxieties ; weighed down by a cruel sense 
of responsibility. 

How was it all to end ? she asked herself, 
as, oblivious of Mdlle. Stephanie’s perform- 
ance, she lingered on the little dusky landing. 
That first wave of business, born of the 
good-natured impulse of their friends and 
7 


82 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

acquaintance, had spent itself, and matters 
were looking very serious indeed for the 
firm of G. and L. Lorimer. 

We couldn’t go on taking Fred’s guineas 
for ever,” she thought, a strange laugh rising 
in her throat. Perhaps, though, it was 
wrong of me to refuse to he interviewed 
by The Waterloo Place Gazette. But we 
are photographers, not mountebanks !” she 
added, in self-justification. 

In a few minutes she had succeeded in sup- 
pressing all outward marks of her troubles, 
•and had rejoined the people in the sitting- 
room. 

“ Mrs. Mary on says there is nothing the 
matter,” she cried, with her delightful 
smile, and that there is no accounting for 
these foreigners.” 

Laughter greeted her words, then Conny, 
rising and shaking out her splendid skirts, 
declared that it was time to go. 

“ Aren’t you ever coming to see us ? ” she 
said, giving Gertrude a great hug. ‘‘Mama 
is positively offended, and as for papa — dis- 
consolate is not the word.” 

“You must make them understand how 
really difficult it is for any of us to come,” 
answered Gertrude, who had a natural dis- 


TO THE BESCUE. 


83 


like to entering on explanations in which 
such sordid matters as shabby clothes and 
the comparative dearness of railway tickets 
would have had to figure largely. But we 
are coming one day, of course.'’ 

“ I’ll tell you what it is,” cried Fred, as 
they emerged into the street, and stood 
looking round for a hansom ; “ Gertrude may 
be the cleverest, and Phyllis the prettiest, 
but Lucy is far and away the nicest of the 
Lorimer girls.” 

“ Gerty is worth ten of her, I think,” an- 
swered Conny, crossly. She was absorbed in 
furtive contemplation of a light that glim- 
mered in a window above the auctioneer’s 
shop opposite. 

As the girls were sitting at supper, later 
on, they were startled by the renewal of 
those sounds below which had disturbed 
them in the afternoon. 

They waited a few minutes, attentive; but 
this time, instead of dying away, the noise 
rapidly gathered volume, and in addition to 
the scufiling, their ears were assailed by the 
sound of shrill cries, and what appeared to 
be a perfect volley of objurgations. Evi- 
dently a contest was going on in which other 
weapons than vocal or verbal ones were em- 


84 THE BOMANGE OF A SHOP. 

ployed, for the floor and windows of the 
little sitting-room shook and rattled in a 
most alarming manner. 

Suddenly, to the general horror, Fanny 
hurst into tears. 

Girls,” she cried, rushing wildly to the 
window, “you may say what you like; 
but I am not going to stay and see us all 
murdered without lifting a hand. Help ! 
Murder 1 ” she shrieked, leaning half her 
body over the window-sill. 

“ For goodness’ sake, Fanny, stop that ! ” 
cried Lucy, in dismay, trying to draw her 
back into the room. But her protest was 
drowned by a series of ear-j)iercing yells 
issuing from the room below. 

“ I will go and see what is the matter,’^ 
said Gertrude, pale herself to the lips ; for the 
whole thing was suiflciently blood-curdling. 

“You’d better stay where you are,” an- 
sweredLucy, inhermost matter-of-fact tones, 
as she led the terrified Fan to an arm-chair. 

Phyllis stood among them silent, gazing 
from one to the other, with that strange, 
bright look in her eyes, which with her 
betokened excitement ; the unimpassioned, 
impersonal excitement of a spectator at a 
thrilling play. 


TO THE RESCUE. 


85 


‘‘Certainly I shall go,” said Gertrude, as 
a door banged violently below, to the accom- 
paniment of a volley of polyglot curses. 

“ I will not stay in this awful house 
another hour,” panted Fanny, from her 
arm-chair. “ Gertrude, Gertrude, if you 
leave this room I shall die ! ” 

With a sickening of the heart, for she 
knew not what horror she was about to en- 
counter, Gertrude made her way downstairs, 
the cries and sounds of struggling growing 
louder at each step. At the bottom of the 
first flight she paused. 

“ Go back, Phyllis.” 

“ It’s no good, Gerty, I’m not going 
back.” 

“ I am going to the shop ; and if the 
Maryons are not there we must call a police- 
man.” 

Swiftly they went down the next flight, 
past the horrible doors, on the other 
side of which the battle was raging, still 
downwards, till they reached the little 
narrow hall. Here they drew up suddenly 
before a figure which barred the way. 

Long afterwards Gertrude could recall 
the moment when she first saw Frank 
Jermyn under their roof; could remember 


88 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

distinctly — though all at the time seemed 
chaos — the sudden sensation of security that 
came over her at the sight of the kind, eager 
young face, the brilliant, steadfast eyes ; at 
the sound of the manly, cheery voice. 

There were no explanations ; no apologies. 

There seems to be a shocking row going 
on,” he said, lifting his hat ; ‘‘I only hope 
that it does not concern any of you ladies.” 

In a few hurried words Gertrude told 
him what she knew of the state of affairs. 
Meanwhile the noise had in some degree 
subsided. 

Great heavens ! ” cried Frank ; ‘‘ there 
may be murder going on at this instant.” 
And in less time than it takes to tell he had 
sprung past her, and was hammering wdth 
all his might at the closed door. 

The girls followed timidly, and were in 
time to see the door fly open in response to 
the well-directed blows, and Mrs. Mary on 
herself come forward, pale hut calm. Within 
the room all was now dark and silent. 

Mrs. Maryon and the new comer ex- 
changed a few hurried words, and the latter 
turned to the girls, who clung together a few 
paces off. 

There is no cause for alarm,” he said. 


TO THE BESCUE. 


87 


Pray do not wait here. I will explain 
everything in a few minutes, if I may.” 

‘‘ Now please, Miss Lorimer, go hack up- 
stairs ; there’s nothing to be frightened 
at,” chimed in Mrs. Maryon, with some 
asperity. 

A few minutes afterwards Frank Jermyn 
knocked at the door of the Lorimers’ sit- 
ting-room, and on being admitted, found 
himself well within the fire of four question- 
ing pairs of feminine eyes. 

‘‘ Pray sit down, sir,” said Fan, who had 
been prepared for his arrival. How are 
we ever to thank you ? ” 

There is nothing to thank me for, as 
your sisters can tell you,” he said, bluntly. 
He looked a modest, pleasant little person 
enough as he sat there in his light overcoat 
and dress clothes, all the fierceness gone 
out of him. have merely come to tell 
you that nothing terrible has happened. It 
seems that the poor Frenchwoman below 
has been in money difSculties, and has been 
trying to put an end to herself. The 
Maryons discovered this in time, and it 
has been as much as they could do to pre- 
vent her from carrying out her plan. Hence 
these tears,” he added, with a smile. 


THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 


When once you had seen Frank Jerinyn 
smile, you believed in him from that 
moment. 

The girls were full of horror and pity at 
the tale. 

‘‘We have had a great shock,” said Fan, 
wiping her eyes, with dignity. “ Such a 
terrible noise. But you heard it for your- 
self.” 

A pause ; the young fellow looked round 
rather wdstfully, as though doubtful of what 
footing he stood on among them. 

“We must not keep you,” went on Fan, 
whose tongue was loosened by excitement ; 
“ no doubt (glancing at his clothes) you are 
going out to dinner.” 

She spoke in the manner of a fallen queen 
who alludes to the ceremony of coronation. 

Frank rose. 

“ By the by,” he said, looking down, “ I 
have often wished — I have never ventured ” 
— then looking up and smiling brightly, 
“ I have often wondered if you included 
photographing at artists’ studios in your 
work.” 

Lucy assured him that they did, and the 
young man asked permission to call on them 
the next day at the studio. Then he added — 


TO THE BESCUE. 


89 


My name is Jerinyn, and I live at Num- 
ber 19, opposite.” 

‘‘I think,” said Lucy, in the candid, 
friendly fashion which always set people at 
their ease, that we have an acquaintance 
in common. Miss Devonshire.” 

Jermyn acknowledged that such was the 
case ; a few remarks on the subject were 
exchanged, then Frank went off to his 
dinner-party, having first shaken hands with 
each of the girls in all cordiality and frankness. 

Mrs. Maryon came up in the course of 
the evening, to express her regret that 
the ladies had been frightened and dis- 
turbed ; setting aside with cynical good- 
humour their anxious expressions of pity 
and sympathy for the heroine of the affair. 

^Mt isn’t for such as you to trouble your- 
selves about such as her,” she said, ^‘al- 
though I’m sorry enough for Steffany myself 
— and never a penny of last quarter’s rent 
paid ! ” 

“Poor woman,” answered Lucy, “she 
must have been in a desperate condition.” 

“You see, miss,” said Mrs. Maryon cir- 
cumstantially, “ she had been going on 
owing money for ever so long, though 2 ve 
knew nothing about it ; and at last she was 


90 THE BOMANGE OF A SHOP, 

threatened with the bailiffs. Then what 
mnst she do bnt go down to the shop and 
make off with some of Mary on’s bottles 
while we were at dinner. He found it out, 
and took one away from her this afternoon 
when you complained of the noise. Later 
he missed the second bottle, and went up to 
Steffany, who was uncorking it and sniffing 
it, and making believe she wanted to do 
away with herself.” 

‘‘ How unutterably horrible ! ” Gertrude 
shuddered. 

You heard how she went on when he 
tried to take it from her. Such strength as 
she has, too — it was as much as me and 
Maryon and the girl could do between us to 
hold her down.” 

Where has she gone to now?” said Lucy. 

Oh, she don’t sleep here, you know, miss. 
She’s gone home with Maryon as meek as 
a lamb ; took her bit of supper with us, quite 
cheerfully.” 

“ What will she do, I wonder ? ” 

^^Ah,” said Mrs. Maryon, thoughtfully; 
there’s no saying what she and many other 
poor creatures like her have to do. There’d 
be no rest for any of us if we was to think 
of that.” 


TO THE BESCUE. 


91 


Gertrude lay awake that night for many 
hours ; the events of the day had curiously 
shaken her. The story of the miserable 
Frenchwoman, with its element of grim 
humour, made her sick at heart. 

Fenced in as she had hitherto been from 
the grosser realities of life, she was only 
beginning to realise the meaning of life. 
Only a plank — a plank between them and 
the pitiless, fathomless ocean on which they 
had set out with such unknowing fearless- 
ness; into whose boiling depths hundreds 
sank daily and disappeared, never to rise 
again. 

Mademoiselle Stephanie actually put in 
an appearance the next morning, and made 
quite a cheerful bustle over the business of 
setting her house in order, preparatory to 
the final flitting. 

Gertrude passed her on the stairs on her 
way to the studio, but feigned not to notice 
the other’s morning greeting, delivered with 
its usual crispness. The woman’s mincing, 
sallow face, with its unabashed smiles, 
sickened her. 

Phyllis, who was with her, laughed softly. 


92 


THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 


She does not seem in the least put out by 
the little affair of yesterday,” she said. 

Hush, Phyllis. Ah, there is the studio 
bell already. No doubt it is Mr. Jermyn,” 
and she unconsciously assumed her most 
business-like air. 

A day or two later Mademoiselle Stephanie 
vanished for ever ; and not long afterwards 
her place was occupied by a serious-looking 
umbrella-maker, who displayed no hanker- 
ing for Mr. Maryon’s bottles. 




CHAPTEE VII. 


A NEW CUSTOMEE. 


Stately is service accejJteJ, but lovelier service rendered, 
Interchange of service the law and condition of Beauty. 


A. H. Clough. 


RANK JERMYN, whom we have left 



-L ringing at the hell, followed Gertrude 
down the Virginia-cork passage into the 
waiting-room. 

The curtains between this apartment and 
the studio were drawn aside, displaying a 
charming picture — Lucy, in her black gown 
and holland pinafore, her fair, smooth head 
henfc over the re-touching frame ; Phyllis, at 
an ornamental table, engaged in trimming 
prints, with great deftness and grace of 
manipulation. 


94 THE ROMANCE OF A SHOP, 

Neither of the girls looked up from her 
work, and Frank took possession of one of 
the red-legged chairs, duly impressed with 
the business-like nature of the occasion; 
although, indeed, it must be confessed that 
his glance strayed furtively now and then 
in the direction of the studio and its 
pleasant prospect. 

Gertrude explained that they were quite 
prepared to undertake studio work. Frank 
briefly stated the precise nature of the work 
he had ready for them, and then ensued a 
pause. 

It was humiliating, it was ridiculous, but 
it was none the less true, that neither of 
these business-like young people liked first 
to make a definite suggestion for the inevit- 
able visit to Frank’s studio. 

At last Gertrude said, You would wish 
it done to-day ? ” 

Yes, please ; if it be possible.” 

She reflected a moment. “It must be 
this morning. There is no relying on the 
afternoon light. I cannot arrange to go 
myself, but my sister can, I think. Lucy ! ” 

Lucy came across to them, alert and 
serene. 

“Lucy, would you take number three 


A NEW CUSTOMEB. 


95 


camera to Mr. Jermyn’s studio in York 
Place ? ” 

“Yes, certainly.” 

“I have some studies of drapery I should 
wish to be photographed,” added Frank, 
with his air of steadfast modesty. 

“ I will come at once, if you like,” 
answered Lucy, calmly. 

“ You will, of course, allow me to carry 
the apparatus. Miss Lorimer.” 

“ Thank you,” said Lucy, after the least 
possible hesitation. 

Every one was immensely serious ; and a 
few minutes afterwards Mrs. Maryon, look- 
ing out from the dressmaker’s window, saw 
a solemn young man and a sober young 
woman emerge together from the house, 
laden with tripod- stand and camera, and a 
box of slides, respectively. 

“ I wish I could have gone myself,” said 
Gertrude, in a worried tone ; “ but I 
promised Mrs. Staines to be in for 
her.” 

“ Yes, he is a nice young man,” answered 
Phyllis, unblushingly, looking up from her 
prints. 

“ Oh Phyllis, Phyllis, don’t talk like a 
housemaid.” 


9G 


THE ROMANCE OF A SHOP. 


‘ ‘ I say, Gerty, all this is delightfully un- 
chaperoned, isn’t it ? ” 

‘‘ Phyllis, how can you?” cried Gertrude, 
vexed. 

The question of propriety was one which 
she always thought best left to itself, which 
she hated, above all things, to discuss. Yet 
even her own unconventional sense of fitness 
was a little shocked at seeing her sister 
w^alk out of the house with an unknown 
young man, both of them being hound for 
the studio of the latter. 

She was quite relieved when, an hour 
later, Lucy appeared in the waiting-room, 
fresh and radiant from her little walk. 

‘‘Mrs. Staines has been and gone,” said 
Gertrude. “ She worried dreadfully. But 
what have you done with ‘ number three ? ’ ” 

“ Oh, I left the camera at York Place. I 
am going again to-morrow to do some work 
for Mr. Oakley, who shares Mr. Jermyn’s 
studio.” 

“ Grist for our mill with a vengeance. 
But come hero and talk seriously, Lucy.” 

Phyllis, be it observed, who never re- 
mained long in the workshop, had gone out 
for a walk with Fan. 

“Well?” said Lucy, balancing herself 


A NEW CUSTOMEB. 


97 


against a five-barred gate, Fred Devonshire's 
latest gift, aptly christened by Phyllis the 
White Elephant. ‘‘Well, Miss Lorimer? ” 
“ I’m going to say something unpleasant. 
Do you realise that this latest development 
of our business is likely to excite remark ? ” 
“ ‘ That people will talk,’ as Fan says ? 
Oh, yes, I realise that.” 

“ Don’t look so contemptuous, Lucy. It 
is unconventional, you know.” 

“ Of course it is ; and so are we. It is a 
little late in the day to quarrel with our 
bread-and-butter on that ground.” 

“It is a mere matter of convention, is it 
not ? ” cried Gertrude, more anxious to per- 
suade herself than her sister. “ Whether a 
man walks into your studio and introduces 
himself, or whether your hostess introduces 
him at a party, it comes to much the 
same thing. In both cases you must use 
your judgment about him.” 

“ And whether he walks down the street 
with you, or puts his arm round your waist, 
and waltzes off with you to some distant 
conservatory, makes very little difference. 
In either case the chances are one knows 
nothing about him. I am sure half the men 
one met at dances might have been haber- 
8 


D8 THE llOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

dashers or professional thieves for all their 
hostesses knew. And, as a matter of fact, 
we happen to know something about Mr. 
Jermyn.’' 

Oh, I have nothing to say against Mr. 
Jermyn, personally. I am sure he is nice. 
It was rather that my vivid imagination saw 
vistas of studio-work looming in the dis- 
tance. It was quite different with Mr. 
Lawrence, you know,” said Gertrude, whom 
her own arguments struck as plausible 
rather than sound. One thing may lead 
to another.” 

Yes, it is sure to,” cried Lucy, who saw 
an opportunity for escaping from the detested 
propriety topic. To-day, for instance, with 
Mr. Oakley. He is middle-aged, by the bye, 
Gerty, and married, for I saw his wife.” 

They both laughed; they could, indeed, 
afford to laugh, for, regarded from a financial 
point of view, the morning had been an un- 
usually satisfactory one. 

Gertrude’s prophetic vision of vistas of 
studio work proved, for the next few days at 
least, to have been no baseless fabric of the 
fancy. The two artists at York Place kept 
them so busy over models, sketches, and 
arrangements of drapery, that the girls’ 


A CUSrOMSR. 00 

hind^ ware full from morning till night. Ot 
course this did not last, but Frank was so 
full of suggestions for them, so genuinely 
struck with the quality of their work, so 
anxious to recommend them to his com- 
rades in art, that their spirits rose high, 
and hope, which for a time had almost failed 
them, arose, like a giant refreshed, in their 
breasts. 

In all simplicity and respect, the young 
Cornishman took a deep and unconcealed 
interest in the photographic firm, and ex- 
pected, on his part, a certain amount of 
interest to be taken in his own work. 

Frank, as Conny had said, worked chiefly 
in black and white. He was engaged, at 
present, in illustrating a serial story for 
The Woodcut^ but he had time on bis 
hands for a great deal more work, time 
which he employed in painting pictures 
which the public refused to buy, although 
the committees were often willing to 
exhibit them. 

If they would only send me out to 
that wretched little war,” he said. There 
is nothing like having been a special artist 
for getting a man on with the pictorial 
editors.” 


100 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

There is nothing like the salt of healthy 
objective interests for keeping the moral 
nature sound. Before the sense of mutual 
honesty, the little barriers of prudishness 
which both sides had thought fit in the 
first instance to raise, fell silently between 
the young people, never again to be lifted 
up. 

For good or evil, these waifs on the great 
stream of London life had drifted together ; 
how long the current should continue thus 
to bear them side by side— how long, in- 
deed, they should float on the surface of 
the stream at all, was a question with 
which, for the time being, they did not 
very much trouble themselves. 

No one quite knew how it came about, 
but before a month had gone by, it became 
the most natural thing in the world for 
Frank to drop in upon them at unexpected 
hours, to share their simple meals, to ask 
and give advice about their respective work. 

Fanny had accepted the situation with 
astonishing calmness. Prudish to the verge 
of insanity with regard to herself, she had 
grown to look upon her strong-minded 
sisters as creatures emancipated from the 
ordinary conventions of their sex, as far 


A NEW CUSTOMEB. 


101 


removed from the advantages and dis- 
advantages of gallantry as the withered 
hag who swept the crossing near Baker 
Street Station. 

Perhaps, too, she found life at this period 
a little dull, and welcomed, on her own 
account, a new and pleasant social element 
in the person of Frank Jermyn; however 
it may be, Fanny gave no trouble, and 
Gertrude’s lurking scruples slept in peace. 

One bright morning towards the end of 
January, Gertrude came careering up the 
street on the summit of a tall, green omni- 
bus, her hair blowing gaily in the breeze, 
her ill-gloved hands clasped about a bulky 
note-book. Frank, passing by in painting- 
coat and sombrero, plucked the latter from 
his head and waved it in exaggerated salute, 
an action which evoked a responsive smile 
from the person for whom it was intended, 
but acted with quite a different effect on 
another person who chanced to witness it, 
and for whom it was certainly not intended. 
This was no other than Aunt Caroline 
Pratt, who, to Gertrude’s dismay, came 
dashing past in an open carriage, a look 
of speechless horror on her handsome, 
horselike countenance. 


102 THE ROMANCE OF A SHOP. 

Now it is impossible to be dignified on 
the top of an omnibus, and Gertrude re- 
ceived her aunt’s frozen stare of non- 
recognition with a humiliating consciousness 
of the disadvantages of her own position. 

With a sinking heart she crept down 
from her elevation, when the omnibus 
stopped at the corner, and walked in a 
crestfallen manner to Number 20b, before 
the door of which the carriage, emptied of 
its freight, was standing. 

Aunt Caroline did not trouble them much 
in these days, and rather wondering what 
had brought her, Gertrude made her way 
to the sitting-room, where the visitor was 
already established. 

How do you do. Aunt Caroline ? ” 

How do you do, Gertrude ? And where 
have you been this morning ? ” 

“ To the British Museum.” 

Gertrude felt all the old opposition rising 
within her, in the jarring presence; an 
opposition which she assured herself was 
unreasonable. What did it matter what 
Aunt Caroline said, at this time of day ? 
It had been different when they had been 
little girls; different, too, in that first 
moment of sorrow and anxiety, when she 


A NEW CUSTOMEB. 


103 


had laid her coarse touch on their quivering 
sensibilities. 

Yet, when all was said, Mrs. Pratt’s was 
not a presence to be in any way passed over. 

‘‘It is half-past one,” said Aunt Caroline, 
consulting her watch ; “ are you not going 
to have your luncheon ? ” 

“It is laid in the kitchen,” explained 
Lucy; “but if you will stay we can have 
it in here.” 

“ In the kitchen ! Is it necessary to 
give up the habits of ladies because you 
are poor ? ” 

“ A kitchen without a cook,” put in 
Phyllis, “ is the most ladylike place in 
the world.” 

Mrs. Pratt vouchsafed no answer to this 
exclamation, but turned to Lucy. 

“No luncheon, thank you. I may as well 
say at once that I have come here with a 
purpose ; solely, in fact, from motives of 
duty. Gertrude, perhaps your conscience 
can tell you what brings me.” 

“ Indeed, Aunt Caroline, I am at a 
loss ” 

“ I have come,” continued Mrs. Pratt, 
“prepared to put up with anything you 
may say. Gertrude, it is to you I address 


104 THE ROMANCE OF A SHOP. 

myself, although, from Fanny’s age, she 
is the one to have prevented this scandal.” 

‘‘I do not in the least understand you,” 
said Gertrude, with self-restraint. 

Mrs. Pratt elevated her gloved forefinger, 
with the air of a well-seasoned counsel. 

Is it, or is it not true, that you have 
scraped acquaintance with a young man 
who lodges opposite you; that he is in 
and out of your rooms at all hours ; that 
you follow him about to his studio ? ” 

‘‘Yes,” said Gertrude, slowly, fiushing 
deeply, “if you choose to put it that 
way; it is true.” 

“ That you go about to public places 
with him,” continued Aunt Caroline ; “ that 
you have been seen, two of you and this 
person, in the upper boxes of a theatre ? ” 

“Yes, it is true,” answered Gertrude ; and 
Lucy, mindful of a coming storm, would 
have taken up the word, but Gertrude in- 
terrupted her. 

“ Let me speak, Lucy ; perhaps, after all, 
we do owe Aunt Caroline some explanation. 
Aunt, how shall I say it for you to un- 
derstand? We have taken life up from a 
different standpoint, begun it on different 
bases. We are poor people, and we are learn- 


A NUW CUSTOMER. 


105 


ing to find out the pleasures of the poor, 
to approach happiness from another side. 
We have none of the conventional social 
opportunities for instance, but are we there- 
fore to sacrifice all social enjoyment ? 
You say we ‘ follow Mr. Jermyn to his 
studio ; ’ we have our living to earn, no less 
than our lives to live, and in neither case 
can we afford to be the slaves of custom. 
Our friends must trust us or leave us; 
must rely on our self-respect and our 
judgment. Convention apart, are not judg- 
ment and self-respect what we most of us do 
rely on in our relations with people, under 
any circumstances whatever ? ” 

It was only the fact that Aunt Caroline 
was speechless with rage that prevented her 
from breaking in at an earlier stage on poor 
Gertrude’s heroics ; but at this point she 
found her voice. Sitting Yeicj still, and 
looking hard at her niece with a remark- 
ably unpleasant expression in her cold eye, 
she said in tones of concentrated fury : 

Fanny is a fool, and the others are 
children; but don’t you, Gertrude, know 
what is meant by a lost reputation ? ” 

This was too much for Gertrude ; she 
sprang to her feet. 


10(5 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

Aunt Caroline,” she cried, you are 
right ; Lucy and Phyllis are very young. 
It is not fit that they should hear such 
conversation. If you wish to continue it, I 
will ask them to go away.” 

A pause ; the two combatants standing 
pale and breathless, facing one another. 
Then Lucy went over to her sister and 
took her hand ; Fanny sobbed ; Phyllis 
glanced from one to the other with, her 
bright eyes. 

Now, Gertrude’s conduct had been dis- 
tinctly injudicious ; open defiance, no less 
than servile acquiescence, was understood* 
and appreciated by Mrs. Pratt ; but Ger- 
trude, as Lucy, who secretly admired her 
sister’s eloquence, at once perceived, had 
spoken a tongue not understanded of Aunt 
Caroline. 

As soon, in these non-miraculous days, 
strike the rock for water, as appeal to Aunt 
Caroline’s finer feelings or imaginative per- 
ceptions. 

If you will not listen to me,” she said, 
suddenly assuming an air of weariness 
and physical delicacy, ‘^it must he seen 
whether your uncle can influence you. I 
am not equal to prolonging the discussion.” 


A NEW CUSTOMEB. 


107 


Pointedly ignoring Gertrude, she shook 
hands with the other girls ; angry as she 
was, their shabby clothes and shabby 
furniture smote her for the moment with 
compassion. Poverty seemed, to her the 
greatest of human calamities ; she pitied 
even more than she despised it. 

To Lucy, indeed, who escorted her down- 
stairs, she assumed quite a gay and bene- 
volent manner ; only pausing to ask on the 
threshold, with a good deal of fine, healthy 
curiosity underlying the elaborate archness 
of her tones : 

‘‘Now, how much money have you 
naughty girls been making lately ? ” 

Lucy stoutly and laughingly evaded the 
question, and Aunt Caroline drove off 
smiling, refusing, like the stalwart warrior 
that she was, to acknowledge herself de- 
feated. But it was many a long day before 
she attempted again to interfere in the 
affairs of the Lorimers. 

Perhaps she would have been more ready 
to renew the attack, had she known how 
really distressed and disturbed Gertrude 
had been by her words. 



CHAPTEE VIII. 

A DISTINGUISHED PERSON. 

I can give no reason, nor I will not ; 

More than have a lodged hate and a certain loathing 
I bear Antonio.'' 

Merchant of Venice. 

O NE morning, towards the middle of 
March, the sisters were much excited at 
receiving a letter containing an order to 
photograph a picture in a studio at St. 
John’s Wood. 

It was written in a small legible hand- 
writing, was dated from The Sycamores, 
and signed, Sidney Darrell. 

‘‘ I wonder how he came to hear of us ? ” 
said Lucy, who cherished a particular 
admiration for the works of this artist. 


# 


A DISTINGUISHED PEBSON. 


109 


Perhaps Mr. Jermyn knows him,” 
answered Gertrude. 

‘‘ He would probably have spoken of him 
to us, if he did.” 

‘‘Here,” said Gertrude, “is Mr. Jermyn 
to answer for himself.” 

Frank, who had been admitted by 
Matilda, came into the waiting-room, 
where the sisters stood, a look as of the 
dawning spring-time in his vivid face and 
shining eyes. 

“I have brought the proofs from The 
Woodcut,'" he said, drawing a damp bundle 
from his painting - coat. The Lorimers 
always read the slips of the story he was 
illustrating, and then a general council was 
held to decide on the best incident for 
illustration. 

Lucy took the bundle and handed him 
the letter. 

“Aren’t you tremendously pleased? ” he 
said. 

“ Do you know anything about this ? ” 
asked Lucy. 

“ How ? ” 

“I mean, did you recommend us to him?” 

“Not I. This letter is simply the 
reward of well-earned fame.” 


110 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

Thank you, Mr. Jermyn ; I really think 
you must be right. Do you know Sidney 
Darrell?” 

I have met him. But he is a great 
swell, you know. Miss Lucy, and he is 
almost always abroad.” 

‘‘Yes,” put in Gertrude; “his exquisite 
Venetian pictures ! ” 

“ Oh, Darrell is a clever fellow. Too fond 
of the French school, perhaps, for my taste. 
And the curious thing is, that, though his 
work is every bit as solid as it is brilliant, 
there is something rather sensational about 
his reputation.” 

“All this,” cried Gertrude, “sounds ex- 
citing.” 

“ I think that must be owing to the man 
himself,” went on Frank. “ Oakley knows 
him fairly well; says you may meet him 
one night at dinner, and he will ask you up 
to his studio. The first thing next morning 
you get a note putting you off ; he is very 
sorry, but he is starting that day for India.” 

“ Does he paint Indian pictures ? ” 

“No, but is bitten at times with the 
‘ big game ’ craze ; shoots tigers and sticks 
pigs, and so on. I believe his studio is 
quite a museum of trophies of the chase.” 


A DISTINGUISHED PEBSON. Ill 

‘‘By the by, Lucy, which of us is 
to go to The Sycamores to-morrow morn- 
ing ? ’’ 

“ You must go, G-erty ; I can’t trust any 
one else to finish off those prints of little 
Jack Oakley, and they have been promised 
so long.” 

Gertrude consulted the letter. 

“I shall have to take the big camera, 
which involves a cab.” 

“ I wish I could have walked up with 
you,” said Frank; “but, strange to say, I 
am very busy this week.” 

“I wish we were busy,” answered Ger- 
trude ; “ things are a little better, but it is 
slow work.” 

r 

“ I consider this letter of Darrell’s a dis- 
tinct move forward,” cried hopeful Frank ; 
“ he will be able to recommend you to 
artists who are not a lot of out-at-elbow 
fellows,” he added, holding out his hand 
in farewell, with a bright smile that belied 
the rueful words. “ Now, please don’t 
forget you are all coming to tea with 
Oakley and me on Sunday afternoon. And 
Miss Devonshire — you gave her my invita- 
tion?” 

“Yes,” said Lucy, promptly; then added 


112 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

after a pause : May her brother come 
too ; he says he would like to ? '' 

Frank scanned her quickly with his 
bright eyes. 

“ Certainly, if you like ; he is not a bad 
sort of cub.” 

And then he departed abruptly. 

That was quite rude, for Mr. Jermyn,” 
said Gertrude. 

Lucy turned away with a slight flush on 
her fair face. 

It would be quite rude for anybody,” 
she said, and went over to the studio. 

Phyllis was spending the day at the 
Devonshires, hut came back for the evening 
meal, by which time her sisters’ excitement 
on the subject of Darrell’s letter had sub- 
sided; and no mention was made of it 
while they were at table. 

After the meal, Phyllis went over to the 
window, drew up the blind, and amused 
herself, as was her frequent custom, by 
looking into the street. 

‘‘I wish you wouldn’t do that,” said 
Lucy; “any one can see right into the 
room.” 

“ Why do you waste your breath, Lucy ? 
You know it is never any good telling me 
not to do things, when I want to.” 


A DISTINGUISHED PERSON. 113 

Gertrude, who had herself a secret, 
childish love for the gas-lit street, for the 
sight of the hurrying people, the lamps, 
the hansom cabs, flickering in and out the 
yellow haze, like so many fire-flies, took no 
part in the dispute, but set to work at 
repairing an old skirt of Phyllis’s, which 
was sadly torn. 

Meanwhile the spoilt child at the window 
continued her observations, which seemed 
to afford her considerable amusement. 

There is a light in Prank Jermyn’s 
window — the top one,” she cried ; I sup- 
pose he is dressing. He told me he had 
an early dance in Harley Street. I wish 
I were going to a dance.” 

There was a look of mischief in Phyllis’s 
eyes as she looked round at Lucy, who was 
buried in the proof-sheets from The Woodcut, 
Phyllis, you are coughing terribly. Do 
come away from that draughty place,” cried 
Gertrude, with real anxiety.” 

Oh, I’m all right, Gerty. Ah, there goes 
Master Frank. It is wet underfoot, and he 
has turned up his trousers, and his pumps 
are bulging from his coat-pocket. I wonder 
how many miles a week he walks on his 
way to dances ? ” 


9 


114 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

“It is quite delightful to see a person 
with such an enjoyment of every phase of 
existence,” said Gertrude, half to herself. 

“You poor, dear blase e thing. It is 
a pretty sight to see the young people 
enjoying themselves, as the little hoy said 
in Punchj is it not ? I wonder if Mr. 
Jermyn is going to walk all the way? 
Perhaps he will take the omnibus at the 
corner. He never ‘ soars higher than a 
’bus,’ as he expresses it.” 

Wearying suddenly of the sport, Phyllis 
dropped the blind, and, coming over to 
Gertrude, knelt on the floor at her feet. 

“ It is a little dull, ain’t it, Gerty, to look 
at life from a top-floor window ? ” 

A curious pang went through Gertrude, 
as she tenderly stroked the nut-brown 
head. 

“ You haven’t heard our news,” she said, 
irrelevantly. “ There, read that.” And 
taking Mr. Darrell’s note from her pocket, 
she handed it to Phyllis. 

The latter read it through rather lan- 
guidly. 

“Yes, I suppose it is a good thing to be 
employed by such a person,” she remarked. 

“ Sidney Darrell? — Didn’t I tell you I met 


A DISTINGUISHED PERSON. 115 

him last week at the Oakleys, the day I 
went to tea ? ” 

* * 

The Sycamores was divided from the road 
by a high grey wall, beyond which stretched 
a neglected - looking garden of some size, 
and, on the March morning of which I 
write, this latter presented a singularly 
melancholy appearance. 

The house itself looked melancholy also, 
as houses will which are very little lived 
in, and appeared to consist almost entirely 
of a large studio, built out like a dispropor- 
tionate wing from the main structure. 

Gertrude was led at once to the studio 
by a serious-looking manservant, who an- 
nounced that his master would join her in 
a few minutes. 

The apartment in which Gertrude found 
herself was of vast size, and bore none of 
the signs of neglect and disuse which 
marked the house and garden. 

It was fitted up with all the chaotic 
splendour which distinguishes the studio 
of the modern fashionable artist ; the spoils 
of many climes, fruits of many wanderings, 
being heaped, with more regard to pic- 


116 THE ROMANCE OF A SHOP, 

turesqueness than fitness, in every available 
nook. 

Going up to the carved fire-place, Gertrude 
proceeded to warm her hands at the com- 
fortable wood-fire, a position badly adapted 
for taking stock of the great man’s 
possessions, of which, as she afterwards 
confessed, she only carried away a prevail- 
ing impression of tiger- skins and Venetian 
lanterns. 

The fire-light played about her slim 
figure and about the faded richness of a big 
screen of old Spanish leather, which fenced 
in the little bit of territory in the immediate 
neighbourhood of the fire-place ; a spot in 
which had been gathered the most luxurious 
lounges and the choicest ornaments of the 
whole collection ; and where, at the present 
moment, the air was heavy with the scent 
of tuberose, several sprays of which stood 
on a small table in a costly jar of Venetian 
glass. 

In a few minutes the sound of footsteps 
outside, and of the rich, deep notes of a 
man’s voice were audible. 

“ Et non, non, non, 

Vous n’etes plus Lisette, 

Ne portez plus ce nom.’ 


A DISTINGUISHED PEBSON. 117 

As the footsteps drew nearer the words of 
the song could be clearly distinguished. 

Gertrude turned towards the door, which 
fronted the fire-place, and as she did so the 
song ceased, the curtain was pushed aside, 
and a person, presumably the singer, came 
into the room. 

He was a man of middle height, and 
middle age, with light brown hair, parted in 
the centre, and a moustache and Vandyke 
beard of the same colour. He was not, 
strictly speaking, handsome, but he wore 
that air of distinction which power and the 
assurance of power alone can confer. His 
whole appearance was a masterly combina- 
tion of the correct and the picturesque. 

He advanced deliberately towards Ger- 
trude. 

Allow me. Miss Lorimer, to introduce 
myself.” 

He spoke carelessly, yet with a note of 
disappointment in his voice, and a shade of 
moodiness in his heavy-lidded eyes. 

Gertrude, looking up and meeting the 
cold, grey glance, became suddenly con- 
scious that her hat was shabby, that her 
boots were patched and clumsy, that the 
wind had blown the wisps of hair about her 


118 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

face. What was there in this man’s gaze 
that made her, all at once, feel old and 
awkward, ridiculous and dowdy ; that made 
her long to snatch up her heavy camera and 
flee from his presence, never to return ? 

What, indeed ? Gertrude, we know, had 
a vivid imagination, and that perhaps was 
responsible for the sense of oppression, 
defiance, and self-distrust with which she 
followed Mr. Darrell across the room fco one 
of the easels, on which was displayed a re- 
markable study in oils of a winter aspect of 
the Graud Canal at Venice. 

There was certainly, superficially speak- 
ing, no ground for her feeling in the artist’s 
conduct. With his own hands he set up and 
fixed the heavy camera on the tripod stand, 
questioned her, in his low, listless tones, as 
to her convenience, and observed, by way of 
polite conversation, that he had had the 
pleasure of meeting her sister the week 
before at the Oakleys. 

To her own unutterable vexation, Ger- 
trude found herself rather cowed by the 
man and his indifferent politeness, through 
which she seemed to detect the lurking con- 
tempt ; and as his glance of cold irony fell 
upon her from time to time, from beneath 


A DISTINGUISHED PEBSON. 119 

tlie heavy lids, she found herself beginning 
to take part not only against herself hut also 
against the type of woman to which she 
belonged. 

Having made the necessary adjustments, 
and given the necessary directions, Darrell 
went over to the fire-place, and cast him- 
self into a lounge, where the leather screen 
shut out his well-appointed person from 
Gertrude’s sight. She, on her part, set 
about her task without enjoyment, and was 
glad when it was over and she could pack 
up the dark-slides. As she was unscrewing 
the camera from the stand, the curtain 
before the doorway was pushed aside for 
the second time, and a man entered unan- 
nounced. At the same moment Darrell 
advanced from behind his screen, and the 
two men met in the middle of the room. 

‘‘Delighted to see you back, my dear 
fellow.” 

It seemed to Gertrude that a shade of 
deference had infused itself into the artist’s 
manner, as he cordially clasped hands with 
the new comer. 

This person was a tall, sinewy man of from 
thirty-five to forty years of age, with stoop- 
ing shoulders and a brown beard. From her 


120 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

corner by the easel Miss Lorimer could see 
his face, and her casual glance falling upon 
it was arrested by a sudden sense of recog- 
nition. 

Where had she seen them before ; the 
ample forehead, the clear, grey eyes, the 
rough yet generous lines of the features ? 

This man’s face was sunburnt, cheery, 
smiling ; the face which it recalled had been 
pale, haggard, worn with watching and 
sorrow. Then, as by a flash, she saw it all 
again before her eyes ; the dainty room 
flooded with October sunlight ; the dead 
woman lying there with her golden hair 
spread on the pillow ; the bearded, averted 
face, and stooping form of the flgure that 
crouched by the window, 

I only hope,” she reflected, ^^that he 
will not recognise me. The recollections 
that the sight of me would summon up 
could scarcely be pleasant. I have no wish 
to enact the part of skeleton at the feast.” 

With a desponding sense that she had no 
right to her existence, Gertrude gathered 
up her possessions and made her way across 
the room. 

Darrell came forward slowly, “ Oh, put 
down those heavy things,” he said. 


A DISTINGUISHED PEBSON. 121 

Lord Watergate, for it was he, went over 
to the fire-place and stood there warming 
his hands. 

May I trouble you to have a cab called ? 

Gertrude spoke in her most dignified 
manner. 

“ Certainly. But won’t you come to the 
fire ? ” 

Darrell rang a bell which stood on the 
mantelshelf, and indicated to Gertrude a 
chair by the screen. 

Gertrude, however, preferred to stand, 
and for some moments the three people on 
the tiger -skin hearthrug stared into the 
fire in silence. 

Then Darrell said in an offhand manner : 
‘‘ Miss Lorimer has been kind enough to 
photograph my ‘ Grand Canal ’ for me.” 

Lord Watergate, looking up suddenly, 
met Gertrude’s glance. For a moment a 
puzzled expression came into his eyes, then 
changed to one of recognition and recollec- 
tion. After some hesitation, he said : 

“It must be difficult to do justice in a 
photograph to such a picture.” 

She threw him back his commonplace : 

“ Oh, the gradations of tone often come 
out surprisingly well.” 


122 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

Inwardly she was saying, ‘‘ How he must 
hate the sight of me.” 

Darrell looked from one to the other, 
dimly suspicious of their mutual conscious- 
ness, then rejected the suspicion as an 
absurd one. 

I will write to you about those 
sketches,” he said, as the cab was an- 
nounced. 

Lucy and Phyllis were frisking about the 
studio, as young creatures will do in the 
spring, when Gertrude entered, weary and 
dispirited, from her expedition to The Syca- 
mores. 

The girls fell upon her at once for news. 

She flung herself into the sitter’s chair, 
which half revolved with the violence of the 
action. 

Say something nice to me,” she cried. 

Compliment me on my beauty, my talents, 
my virtues. There is no flattery so gross 
that I could not swallow it.” 

Phyllis looked from her to Lucy and 
tapped her forehead in significant panto- 
mime. 

‘‘You are everything that is most delight- 
ful,” said Lucy ; “only do tell us about the 
great man.” 


A DISTINGUISHED PERSON. 123 

He was odious,” cried Gertrude. 

‘‘ She has never been quarrelling, I will 
not say with her own, but with our bread- 
and-butter,” said Phyllis, in affected dis- 
may. 

I will never go there again, if that’s 
what you mean.” 

But what is the matter, Gerty ? I found 
him quite polite.” 

“ Polite ? It is worse than rudeness, a 
politeness which says so plainly : ‘ This is for 
my own sake, not for yours.’ ” 

You are really cross, Gerty ; what has 
the illustrious Sidney been doing to you ? ” 
said Lucy, who did not suffer from violent 
likes and dislikes. 

‘‘Oh,” cried Gertrude, laughing ruefully ; 
“ how shall I explain ? He is this sort of 
man ; — if a woman were talking to him of — 
of the motions of the heavenly bodies, he 
would be thinking all the time of the shape 
of her ankles.” 

“Great heavens, Gerty, did you make 
the experiment? ” 

Phyllis opened her pretty eyes their 
widest as she spoke. 

“We all know,” remarked Lucy, with a 
twinkle in her eye, “that it is best to begin 
with a little aversion.” 


124 


THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 


Phyllis struck an attitude : 

‘^‘Friends meet to part, but foes once 
joined ' ” 

Girls, what has come over you ? ex- 
claimed Gertrude, dismayed. 

‘‘ Gerty is shocked,” said Lucy ; ‘'one is 
always stumbling unawares on her sense of 
propriety.” 

“ She is like the Bishop of Eumtyfoo,” 
added Phyllis ; “ she does draw the line at 
such unexpected places.” 




CHAPTER IX. 

SHOW SUNDAY. 


La science Vavait garde naif. 

Alphonse Daudet. 

T he last Sunday in March was Show 
Sunday ; and Frank, who was of a 
festive disposition, had invited all the 
people he knew in London to inspect his 
pictures and Mr. Oakley’s before they were 
sent in to the Eoyal Academy. 

. Mr. Oakley was a middle-aged Bohemian, 
who had made a small success in his youth 
aud- never got beyond it. It had been 
enough, .however, to' launch him into the 
artistic world, and it was probably only 
owing to the countenance of his brothers of 


126 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

the brush that he was able to sell his pic- 
tures at all. Oakley was an accepted fact, 
if nothing more ; the critics treated him 
with respect if without enthusiasm ; the 
exhibition committees hung him, though not 
indeed on the line, and the public bought 
his pictures, which had the advantage of 
being moderate in price and signed with a 
name that everybody knew. 

Of course this indifferent child of the earth 
had a wife and family ; and he had been 
only too glad to share his studio expenses 
with young Jermyn, whose father, the 
Cornish clergyman, had been a friend of 
his own youth. 

“ I wonder,” said Gertrude, as the 
Lorimers dressed for Frank’s party, ‘‘ if 
there will be a lot of gorgeous people this 
afternoon ? ” And she looked ruefully at 
the patch on her boot, with a humiliating 
reminiscence of Darrell’s watchful eye. 

‘‘ I don’t expect so,” answered Phyllis, 
whose pretty feet were appropriately shod. 

You know what dowdy people one meets 
at the Oakleys. Oh, of course they know 
others, but they don’t turn up, some- 
how.” 

‘‘Then there will be Mr. Jermyn’s people,” 


SHOW SUNDAY. 


127 


said Lucy, inspecting her gloves with a 
frown. 

“A lot of pretty, well-dressed girls, no 
doubt,” answered Phyllis; ‘‘I expect that 
well-beloved youth has a wife in every port, 
or at least a young woman in every suburb.” 

Apropos said Gertrude, “I wonder if 
the Devonshires will be there. We never 
seem to see Conny in these days.” 

‘‘Isn’t it rather a strain on friendship,” 
answered Phyllis, shrewdly, “ when two 
sets of our friends become acquainted, and 
seem to prefer one another to us, the old 
and tried and trusty friend of each ? ” 

“ What horrid things you say sometimes, 
Phyllis,” objected Lucy, as the three sisters 
trooped downstairs. 

Fanny was not with them ; she was spend- 
ing the day with some relations of her 
mother’s. 

A curious, dreamlike sensation stole over 
Gertrude at finding herself once again in a 
roomful of people ; and as an old war-horse 
is said to become excited at the sound of 
battle, so she felt the social instincts rise 
strongly within her as the familiar, forgotten 
pageant of nods and becks and wreathed 
smiles burst anew upon her. 


128 


THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 


Frank shot across the room, like an arrow 
from the bow, as the Lorimers entered. 

‘‘How late you are,” he said; “I was 
beginning to have a horrible fear that you 
were not coming at all.” 

“ How pretty it all is,” said Lucy, 
sweetly. “ Those great brass jars with the 
daffodils are charming ; and what an over- 
whelming number of people.” 

Conny came up to them, splendid as ever, 
but with a restless light in her eyes, an 
unnatural flush on her cheek. 

“ How do you do, girls ? ” she said, 
abruptly. “ You look seedy, Gerty.” Then, 
as Frank moved off to fetch them some tea : 
“ I do so hate afternoon affairs, don’t you ? ” 

“ How pretty Frank looks,” whispered 
Phyllis to Lucy ; “I like to see him 
flying in and out among the people, as 
though his life depended on it, don’t you ? 
And the daffodil in his coat just suits his 
complexion.” 

“ Phyllis, don’t be so silly ! ” 

Lucy refrained from smiling, but her eyes 
followed, with some amusement, the pic- 
turesque and active flgure of her host, as he 
went about his duties with his usual air of 
earnestness and candour. 


SHOW '^SUNDAY, 129 

Come and look at the pictures, Lucy. 
That’s what you’re here for, you know,” 
remarked Fred, who had joined their group, 
and was looking the very embodiment of 
Philistine comeliness. ‘‘I haven’t seen 
you for an age,” he added, as they made 
their way to one of the easels. 

‘‘That is your own fault, isn’t it?” said 
Lucy, lightly. 

“ Conny has got it into her head that you 
don’t care to see us.” 

“ How can Conny be so silly ? ” 

“Don’t tell her I told you. She would 
be in no end of a wax,” he added, as 
Phyllis and Constance pressed by them in 
the crush. 

Gertrude was still standing near the door- 
way, sipping her tea, and looking about her 
with a rather wistful interest. She had 
caught here and there glimpses of familiar 
faces, faces from her own old world — that 
world which, taken en masse, she had so 
fervently disliked ; but no one had taken any 
notice of the young woman by the doorway, 
with her pale face and suit of rusty black. 

“I feel like a ghost,” she said to Frank, 
as she handed him her empty cup. 

“You do look horribly white,” he an- 

10 


180 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

swered, with genuine concern ; I wish you 
were looking as well as your sisters — Miss 
Phyllis for instance/’ 

He glanced across as he spoke with un- 
disguised admiration at the slim young 
figure, and blooming face of the girl, who 
stood smiling down with amiable indif- 
ference at one of his own canvasses. 

Phyllis Lorimer belonged to that rare 
order of women who are absolutely, inde- 
pendent of their clothes. 

By the side of her old black gown and 
well-worn hat, Constance Devonshire’s 
elaborate spring costume looked vulgar 
and obtrusive; and Constance herself, in 
the light of her friend’s more delicate 
beauty, seemed bourgeoise and overblown. 

The effect of this contrast was not lost 
on two men who, at this point of the pro- 
ceedings, strolled into the room, and whom 
the Oakleys came forward with some em- 
pressement to receive. 

I have brought you Lord Watergate,” 
Gertrude heard one of them say, in a voice 
which she recognised at once, the sound 
of which filled her with a vague sense of 
discomfort. 

‘‘ Darrell, by all that’s wonderful ! ” 


SHOW SUNDAY. 


131 


said Frank, sotto voce, his eyes shining 
with enthusiasm ; there, with the light 
Vandyke beard — but you know him 
already.” 

“ Hasn’t he a Show Sunday of his own ? ” 
replied Gertrude, in a voice that implied 
that the wish was father to the thought. 

‘‘ He has a gallery all to himself in Bond 
Street this season. I wonder if he will 
sing this afternoon.” 

Mr. Darrell is a person of many accom- 
’plishments it seems.” 

“ Oh, rather ! ” and Frank went off to 
coffer a pleased and modest welcome to the 
•illustrious guest. 

Sidney Darrell, having succeeded in 
escaping from the Oakleys and their tea- 
table, made his way across the room, 
stopping here and there to exchange greet- 
ings with the people that he knew, and 
moving with that ostentatious air of 
lack of purpose which is so often assumed 
in society to mask a set and deliberate plan. 

How do you do. Miss Lorimer ? ” He 
stopped in front of Phyllis and held out 
his hand. 

Phyllis’s flower-face brightened at this 
recognition from the great man. 


182 THE ROMANCE OF A SHOP. 

Now, don’t yon think this is the most 
ridiculous institution on the face of the 
earth ? ” said Darrell, as he took his place 
beside her, for Conny had moved off dis- 
creetly at his approach. 

‘‘ Which institution ? Tea, pictures, 
people ? ” 

Their incongruous combination under 
the name of Show Sunday.” 

Oh, I think it’s fun. But then I have 
never seen the sort of thing before.” 

“You are greatly to be envied. Miss 
Lorimer.” 

“How lovely Phyllis is looking,” cried 
Conny, who had joined Gertrude near the 
doorway ; “ she grows prettier every day.” 

“ Do you think so ? ” answered Gertrude. 
“ She looks to me more delicate than ever, 
with that flush on her cheek, and that 
shining in her eyes.” 

“ Nonsense, Gerty ; you are quite ridicu- 
lous about Phyllis. She appears to be 
amusing Mr. Darrell, at any rate. She 
says just the sort of things Mr. Lorimer 
used to. She is more like him than any 
of you.” 

“Yes.” Gertrude winced; then, looking 
up, saw Mr. Oakley and a tall man standing 
before her. 


SHOW SUNDAY, 


133 


Lord Watergate, Miss Lorimer.” 

The grey eyes looked straight into hers, 
and a deep voice said — 

We have met before. But I scarcely 
ventured to regard myself as introduced to 
you.” 

Lord Watergate smiled as he spoke, and, 
with a sense of relief, Gertrude felt that 
here, at least, was a friendly presence. 

‘‘ I met you at The Sycamores on Wed- 
nesday.” 

If it could be called a meeting. That’s 
a wonderful picture of Darrell’s.” 

‘^Yes.’^ 

“ Oakley has been telling me about the 
great success in photography of you and 
your sisters.” 

‘‘I don’t know about success ! ” Gertrude 
laughed. 

You look so tired, Miss Lorimer; let 
me find you a seat.” 

‘‘ No, thank you ; I prefer to stand. One 
sees the world so much better.” 

“ Ah, you like to see the world ? ” 

“ Yes ; it is always interesting.” 

“ It is to be assumed that you are fond 
of society ? ” 

“ Does one follow from the other ? ” 


134 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

‘‘ No ; I merely hazarded the question.” 

One demands so much more of a game 
in which one is taking part,” said Ger- 
trude ; “ and with social intercourse, one 
is always thinking how much better 
managed it might be.” 

They both laughed. 

“Now what is your ideal society. Miss 
Lorimer ? ” 

“ A society not of class, caste, or family 
— but of picked individuals.” 

“ I think we tend more and more towards 
such a society, at least in London,” said 
Lord Watergate; then added, “ You are a 
democrat. Miss Lorimer.” 

“ And you are an optimist. Lord Water- 
gate.” 

“ Oh, I’m quite unformulated. But let us 
leave off this mutual recrimination for the 
present ; and perhaps you can tell me who 
is the lady talking to Sidney Darrell.” 

Lord Watergate’s attention had been 
suddenly caught by Phyllis ; Gertrude 
noted that he was looking at her with all 
his eyes. 

“ That is one of my sisters,” she 
said. 

He turned towards her with a start ; 


SHOW SUNDAY. 135 

there was a note of constraint in his tones 
as he said — 

She is very beautiful.’’ 

What was there in his voice, in his face, 
that suddenly brought before Gertrude’s 
vision the image of the dead woman, her 
golden hair, and haggard beauty ? 

Phyllis, on her part, had been aware of 
the brief but intense gaze which the grey 
eyes had cast upon her from the other side 
of the room. 

‘‘ Who is that person talking to my 
sister ? ” she said. 

Darrell looked across coldly, and an- 
swered : ‘‘ Oh, that’s Lord Watergate, the 
great physiologist.” 

I have never met a lord before.” 

And, after all, this isn’t much of a lord, 
because the peer is quite swallowed up in 
the man of science.” 

Oakley came up, entreating Darrell to 
sing. 

‘‘ But isn’t it quite irregular, to-day ? ” 
Oh, we don’t pretend to be fashionable. 
This isn’t ^ Show Sunday,’ pure and simple, 
but just a pretext for seeing one’s friends.” 

By the by,” said the artist, as Oakley 
went off to open the little piano, is it any 


136 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

good my sending the sketches this week? 
though it’s horribly bad form to talk 
shop.” 

‘‘ You must ask my sister about those 
things.” 

“Oh, your sister is far and away too clever 
forme.” 

“ Gertrude is clever, but not in the way 
you mean.” 

“ Nevertheless, I am horribly afraid of 
her.” 

Dajrell went over to the piano and sang 
a little French song, with perfect art, in 
his rich baritone. Gertrude watched him, 
as he sat there playing his own accompani- 
ment, and a ^ague terror stole over her 
of this irreproachable-looking person, who 
did everything so well ; whose quiet presence 
was redolent of an immeasurable, because 
an unknown strength; and who, she felt 
(indignantly remembering the cold irony 
of his glance) could never, under any cir- 
cumstances, be made to appear ridicu- 
lous. 

At the end of the song, Phyllis came 
over to Gertrude. 

. “Aren’t we going, Gerty?” she said; 
“It is quite unfashionable to ‘make a night 


SHOW SUNDAY. 


137 


of it ' like this. One is just supposed to 
look round and sail off to half-a-dozen other 
studios.’’ . » 

Lord Watergate, who stood near, caught 
the half-whispered words, and smiled, as 
one smiles at the nonsense of a pretty 
child. Gertrude saw the expression of his 
lace as she answered — 

/‘Yes, it is time we went. Tell Lucy; 
•there she is with Mr. Jermyn.” 

Darrell came over to them as they were 
going, and shook hands, first with Gertrude, 
and then with Phyllis. 

“ Thank you,” he said to the latter, “for 
a very pleasant afternoon.” 

Both he and Lord Watergate lingered in 
York Place till the other guests had de- 
parted, when they fell upon Frank for 
further information respecting the photo- 
graphic studio. 

“ It doesn’t look as if it paid them,” 
remarked Darrell, by way of administering 
a damper to loyal Frank’s enthusiasm. 

“I wonder,” said Lord Watergate, “if 
they would think it worth while to prepare 
some slides for me ? ” 

“For the Eoyal Institution lectures?” 
Darrell sat down to the piano as he spoke. 


138 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

and ran his hands over the keys. She is 
a charming creature — Phyllis.” 

‘‘Charming!” cried Frank; “and so is 
Miss Lucy. And Gertrude is charming, 
too ; she is the clever one.” 

“ Oh, yes, Gertrude is the clever one ; you 
can see that by her boots.” 

Meanwhile the Lorimers and the Devon- 
shires were walking up Baker Street to- 
gether, engaged, on their part also, in 
discussing the people from whom they 
had just parted. 

“ You are quite wrong, Gerty, about Mr. 
Darrell,” cried Phyllis ; “he is very nice, 
and great fun.” 

“ What, the fellow with the goatee ? ” said 
Fred. 

“Oh, Fred, his beautiful Vandyke beard!” 

“ I don’t care, I don’t like him.” 

“Nor do I, Fred,” said Gertrude, with 
decision, as the whole party turned into 
Number 20b, and went up to the sitting- 
room. 

“I think really you are a little unreason- 
able,” said Lucy, putting her arm round her 
sister’s waist; “he seemed quite a nice 
person.” 

“He looks,” put in Conny, speaking for 


SHOW SUNDAY. 


139 


the first time, “ as though he meant to have 
the best of everything. But so do a great 
many of us mean that.” 

‘‘But not,” cried Gertrude, “by tramp- 
ling over the bodies of other people. Ah, 
you are all laughing at me. But can one 
be expected to think well of a person who 
makes one feel like a strong - minded 
clown ? ” 

They laughed more than ever at the 
curious image summoned up by her words ; 
then Phyllis remarked, critically — 

“ There is one thing I don’t like about 
him, and that is his eye. I particularly 
detest that sort of eye ; prominent, with 
heavy lids, and those little puffy bags under- 
neath.” 

“ Phyllis, spare us these realistic descrip- 
tions,” protested Lucy, “and let us dis- 
miss Mr. Darrell, for the present at least. 
Perhaps our revered chaperon will tell us 
something of her experiences with a certain 
noble lord,” she added, placing in her dress, 
with a smile of thanks, the gardenia of 
which Fred had divested himself in her 
favour. 

“ It was very nice of him,” said Gertrude, 
gravely, “to get Mr. Oakley to introduce 


140 THE. BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

him to me, if only to show me that the 
sight of me did not make him sick.” 

I like his face,” added Lucy; “there 
is something almost boyish about it. Do 
you remember what Daudet says of the 
old doctor in Jack^ ‘La science Tavait 
garde naif.’ ” 

“What a set of gossips we are,” cried 
Conny, who had taken little part in the 
conversation. “ Come along, Fred ; you 
know we are dining at the Greys to- 
night." 

“ Botheration ! They are certain to give 
me Nelly to take in,” grumbled Fred, 
who, like many of his sex, was extremely 
modest where his feelings were concerned, 
but cherished a belief that the mass of 
womankind had designs upon him; “and 
we never know what on earth to say to 
one another.” 

“There goes Mr. Jermyn,” observed 
Phyllis, as the door closed on the brother 
and sister; “he said something about 
coming in here to-night.” 

Lucy, who was seated at some distance 
from the window, allowed herself to look 
up, and smiled as she remarked — 

“What ages ago it seems since we use4 


SHOW SUNDAY. 


141 


to wonder about him and call him ‘ Conny’s 
man.’ ” 

‘‘^Cpnny’s man,’” added Phyllis, with 
a curl of her pretty lips, “ who does not 
care two straws for Conny.” 




CHAPTEE X. 

SUMMING UP. 


J'ai peur (TAvrilj peur de Vemoi 
QiCeveille sa douceur touchante. 

Sully Prudhomme. 

A PEIL had come round again ; and, like 
M. Sully Prudhomme, Gertrude was 
afraid of April. 

As Fanny had remarked to Frank, the 
month had very painful associations for 
them all ; but Gertrude’s terror was older 
than their troubles, and was founded, not 
on the recollection of past sorrow, so much 
as on the cruel hunger for a present joy. 
And now again, after all her struggles, her 
passionate care for others, her resolute 
putting away of all thoughts of personal 


SUMMING UP. 


143 


happiness, now again the Spring was 
stirring in her veins, and voices which 
she had believed silenced for ever arose 
once more in her heart and clamoured for 
a hearing. 

Often, before business hours, Gertrude 
might be seen walking round Kegent’s 
Park at a swinging pace, exorcising her 
demons ; she was obliged, as she said, 
to ride her soul on the curb, and be very 
careful that it did not take the bit between 
its teeth — this poor, weak Gertrude, who 
seemed such a fountain-head of wisdom, 
such a tower of strength to the people 
among whom she dwelt. 

At this period, also, she had had recourse, 
in the pauses of professional work, to her 
old consolation of literary effort, and had 
even sent some of her productions to 
Paternoster Eow, with the same unsatis- 
factory results as of yore, she and Prank 
uniting their voices in that bitter cry of 
the rejected contributor, which in these 
days is heard through the breadth and 
length of the land. 

One morning she came into the studio 
after her walk, to find Lucy engaged in 
focussing Frank, who was seated, wearing 


144 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

an air of immense solemnity, in the sitter’s 
chair. Phyllis, meanwhile, hovered about, 
bestowing hints and suggestions on them 
both, secretly enjoying the quiet humour 
of the scene. 

“It is Mr. Jermyn’s birthday present,” 
she announced, as Gertrude entered. “ He 
is going to send it to Cornwall, which will 
be a nice advertisement for us.” 

Frank blushed slightly ; and Lucy cried 
from beneath her black cloth, “ Don’t get up, 
Mr. Jermyn ; Gertrude will excuse you, I 
am sure.” 

Gertrude, laughing, retreated to the wait- 
ing-room ; where, throwing herself into a 
chair, and leaning both her elbows on a 
rickety scarlet table, she stared vaguely at 
the little picture of youth and grace which 
the parted curtains revealed to her. 

How could they he so cheerful, so heed- 
less ? cried her heart, with a sudden im- 
patience. Was this life, this ceaseless 
messing about in a pokey glass out-house, 
this eating and drinking and sleeping in the 
shabby London rooms ? 

Was any human creature to he blamed 
who rebelled against it ? Did not flesh and 
blood cry out against such sordidness, with 


SUMMING UP, 


145 


all the revel of the spring-time going on in 
the world beyond ? 

It is base and ignoble perhaps to scorn 
the common round, the trivial task, but is 
it not also ignoble and base to become so 
immersed in them as to desire nothing 
beyond ? 

What mean thoughts I am thinking,’* 
cried Gertrude to herself, shocked at her 
own mood; then, gazing mechanically in 
front of her, saw Lucy disappear into the 
dark-room, and Frank come forward with 
outstretched hand. 

At last I can say ‘ good-morning,’ Miss 
Lorimer.” 

Gertrude gave him her hand with a smile ; 
Jermyn’s was a presence that somehow 
always cleared the moral atmosphere. 

^‘You will never guess,” said Frank, 

what I have brought you.” 

As he spoke, he drew from his pocket a 
number of The Woodcut, damp from the 
press, and opening it at a particular page, 
spread it on the table before her. 

Phyllis, becoming aware of these proceed- 
ings, came across to the waiting-room and 
leaned over her sister’s shoulder. 

‘^Oh, Gerty, what fun.” 

11 


146 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

On one side of the page was a large wood- 
engraving representing four people on a 
lawn-tennis court. Three of them were 
girls, in whom could be traced distinct 
resemblance to the three Lorimers; while 
the fourth, a man, had about him an 
unmistakable suggestion of Jermyn him- 
self. The initials “F. J.” were writ large 
in a corner of the picture, and on the 
opposite page were the following verses : — 

What wonder that I should be dreaming * 

Out here in the garden to-day ? 

The light through the leaves is streaming ; 

Paulina cries, “ Play ! ” 

The birds to each other are calling ; 

The freshly-cut grasses smell sweet — 

To Teddy's dismay comes falling 

The hall at my feet ! 

“ Your stroke should he over, not under," 

“ But that's such a difficult way t" 

The place is a spring-tide wonder 

Of lilac and may. 

Of lilac and may and laburnam ; 

Of blossom — “ we're losing the set ! 

Those volleys of Jenny's, return them. 

Stand close to the net / ” 


From Lawn Tennis, 


SUMMING UP. 


147 


Envoi. 

You are so fond of the may-time, 

My friend far away, 

Small wonder that I should be dreaming 
Of you in the garden to-day. 

The verses were signed ‘‘ G. Lorimer”; 
and Gertrude’s eyes rested on them with the 
peculiar tenderness with which we all of us 
regard our efforts the first time that we see 
ourselves in print. 

“How nice they look, Gerty,” cried 
Phyllis. “ And Mr. Jermyn’s picture. 
But I think they have spoilt it a little in 
the engraving.” 

“ It is rather a come down after Charlotte 
Corday, isn’t it ? ” said Gertrude, pleased 
yet rueful. 

Frank, who had been told the history of 
that unfortunate tragedy, answered rather 
wistfully — 

“We have all to get off our high horse. 
Miss Lorimer, if we want to live. I had 
ten guineas this morning for that thing ; 
and there is the Death of (E dipus with 
its face to the wall in the studio — and 
likely to remain there, unless we run short 
of firewood one of these days.” 

“Do you remember,” said Gertrude, 


148 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

how Warrington threw cold water on Pen- 
dennis by telling him to stick to poems like 
the Church Porch and abandon his beloved 
Ariadne in Naxos ? ” 

“Yes/’ answered Frank, “and I never 
could share Warrington’s — and presumably 
Thackeray’s — admiration for those verses.” 

‘‘ Nor I,” said Gertrude, as Lucy emerged 
triumphantly from the dark-room and an- 
nounced the startling success of her nega- 
tives. 

She was shown the wonderful poem, and 
the no less wonderful picture, and then 
Phyllis said — 

“Don’t gloat so over it, Gerty.” For 
Gertrude was still sitting at the table 
absorbed in contemplation of the printed 
sheet spread out before her. 

Gertrude laughed and pushed the paper 
away ; and Lucy quoted gravely — 

“ ‘We all, the foolish and the wise, 

Kegard our verse with fascination, 

Through asinine-paternal eyes, 

And hues of fancy’s own creation ! ’ ” 

A vociferous little clock on the mantel- 
piece struck ten. 

“I must be off,” said Frank; “there 


SUMMISG UP. 


149 


will be my model waiting for me. I am 
afraid I have wasted a great deal of your 
time this morning.” 

‘‘No, indeed,” said Lucy, as Gertrude rose 
and folded the seductive Woodcutj with a 
get-thee-hehind-me- Satan air ; “ though I 
am glad to say we are quite busy.” 

“ There are Lord Watergate’s slides,” 
added Phyllis ; “ and Mr. Darrell’s sketches 
to finish off ; not to speak of possible chance- 
comers.” 

“How do you get on with Darrell?” 
said Frank, who seemed to have forgotten 
his model, and made no movement to 
go. 

“ He has only been here once,” answered 
Lucy, promptly; “but I like what I have 
seen of him.” 

“So do I,” cried Phyllis. 

“ And I,” added Frank. 

In the face of this unanimity Gertrude 
wisely held her peace. 

“Well then, good-bye,” said Frank, re- 
luctantly holding out his hand to each in 
turn — to Lucy, last. “ I am dining out 
to-night and to-morrow, so shall not see you 
for an age, I suppose.” 

“ Gay person,” said Lucy, whose hand 


150 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

lingered in his ; held there firmly, and with- 
out resistance on her part. 

It’s a bore,” cried Frank, making 
wistful eyebrows, and looking at her very 
hard. 

Gertrude started, struck for the first 
time by something in the tone and attitude 
of them both. With a shock that bewil- 
dered her, she realised the secret of their 
mutual content; and, stirred up by this 
unconscious revelation, a conflicting throng 
of thoughts, images, and emotions arose 
within her. 

Gertrude worked like a nigger that day, 
which, fortunately for her state of mind, 
turned out an unusually busy one. Lucy 
was industrious too, but went about 
her work humming little tunes, with a 
serenity that contrasted with her sister’s 
rather feverish laboriousness. Even Phyllis 
condescended to lend a hand to the finish- 
ing off of the prints of Sidney Darrell’s 
sketches. 

All three were rather tired by the time 
they joined Fanny round the supper-table, 
who, herself, presented a pathetic picture of 
ladylike boredom. 

The meal proceeded for some time in 


SUMMING UP. 


151 


silence, broken occasionally by a professional 
remark from one or other of them ; then 
Lucy said — 

You’re not eating, Fanny.” 

I’ m not hungry,” answered Fan, with an 
injured air. 

She looked more like a superannuated 
baby than ever, with her pale eyebrows 
arched to her hair, and the corners of her 
small thin mouth drooped peevishly. 

This pudding isn’t half bad, really. 
Fan,” said Phyllis, good-naturedly, as she 
helped herself to a second portion. I 
should advise you to try it.” 

Fanny’s under-lip quivered in a touchingly 
infantile manner, and, in another moment, 
splash ! fell a great tear on the table-cloth. 

‘‘It’s all very well to talk about pudding,” 
she cried, struggling helplessly with the 
gurgling sobs. “ To leave one alone all the 
blessed day, and not a word to throw at one 
when you do come upstairs, unless, if you 
please, it’s ‘pudding!’ Pudding!” went 
on Fan, with contemptuous emphasis, and 
abandoning herself completely to her rising 
emotions. “ You seem to take me for an 
idiot, all of you, who think yourselves so 
clever. What do you care how dull it is for 


152 TEE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

me up here all day, alone from morning till 
night, while you are amusing yourselves 
below, or gadding about at gentlemen’s 
studios.” 

‘‘That sounds just like Aunt Caroline,” 
said Phyllis, in a stage-whisper ; but Lucy, 
rising, went round to her weeping sister, 
and, gathering the big, silly head, and wide 
moist face to her bosom, proceeded to ad- 
minister comfort after the usual inarticulate, 
feminine fashion. 

“ Panny is right,” cried Gertrude, smitten 
with sudden remorse. “ It is horribly dull 
for her, and we are very thoughtless.” 

“I am sorry I said anything about it,” 
sobbed Fanny; “but flesh and blood couldn’t 
stand it any longer.” 

“ You were quite right to tell us. Fan. 
We have been horrid,” cried Lucy, as she 
gently led her from the room. “ Come up- 
stairs with me, and lie down. You have not 
been looking well all the week.” 

In about ten minutes Lucy re-appeared 
alone, to And the table cleared, and her 
sisters sewing by the lamplight. 

“Fan has gone to bed,” she announced ; 
“ she was a little hysterical, and I persuaded 
her to undress.” 


SUMMING UP. 


153 


‘‘It is dull for her, I know,” said Gertrude j 
really distressed ; but what is to be done ? ” 

‘‘And she has been so good all these 
months,” answered Lucy. She has had 
none of the fun, and all the anxiety and 
pinching, and this is the first complaint we 
have heard from her.” 

“ Yes, she has come out surprisingly well 
through it all.” 

Gertrude sighed as she spoke, secretly 
reproaching herself that there was not more 
love in her heart for poor Fanny. 

Mrs. Maryon appeared at this point to 
offer the young ladies her own copy of the 
Waterloo Place Gazette^ a little bit of neigh- 
bourly courtesy in which she often indulged, 
and which to-night was especiall}^ appre- 
ciated, as creating a diversion from an un- 
pleasant topic. 

“‘A woman shot at Turnham Green,’” 
cried Phyllis, glancing down a column of mis- 
cellaneous items, while the lamplight fell on 
her bent brown head. “ ‘ More fighting in 
Africa.’ Ah, here’s something interesting 
at last. — ‘ We understand that the exhibi- 
tion of Mr. Sidney Darrell, A.E. A.’s pictures, 
to be held in the Berkeley Galleries, New 
Bond Street, will be opened to the public 


154 THE ROMANCE OF A SHOP. 

on the first of next month. The event is 
looked forward to with great interest in 
artistic circles, as the collection is said to 
include many works never before exhibited 
in London.’ I shall go like a shot ; sha’n’t 
you, Gerty ? ” 

Yes, and slip little dynamite machines 
behind the pictures. Let me look at that 
paper, Phyllis.” 

Phyllis pushed it towards her, and, as 
she took it up, her eye fell on the date of 
the month printed at the top of the page. 

‘‘Do you know,” she said, “ that it is a 
year to-day that we finally decided on start- 
ing our business ? ” 

“Is it?” said Lucy. “Do you mean 
from that day when Aunt Caroline came 
and pitched into us all ? ” 

“ Yes ; and when Mr. Eussel’s letter ap- 
peared on the scene, just as we were think- 
ing of rushing in a body to the nearest 
chemist’s for laudanum.” 

“ And when we made a lot of good resolu- 
tions ; do you remember ? ” cried Phyllis. 

“What were they?” said Gertrude. “One 
was, that we would he happy.” 

“ Well, I think we have kept that one at 
least,” observed Lucy, with decision. 


SUMMING UP. 


155 


Gertrude looked across at her sister rather 
wistfully, as she answered, Yes, on the 
whole. What was the other resolution ? 
That we would not be cynical, was it 
not ? ” 

There hasn’t been the slightest ground 
for cynicism ; quite the other way,” said 
Lucy. “ It is not much credit to us to have 
kept that resolution.” 

‘‘ Oh, I don’t know,” observed Phyllis, 
lightly ; some people have been rather 
horrid ; have forgotten all about us, or not 
been nice. Don’t you remember, Gerty, 
how Gerald St. Aubyn dodged round the 
corner at Baker Street the other day be- 
cause he didn’t care to be seen bowing to 
two shabby young women with heavy par- 
cels ? And, Lucy, have you forgotten what 
you told us about Jack Sinclair, when you 
met him, travelling from the north ? How 
he never took any notice of you, because 
you happened to be riding third class, and 
had your old gown on ? Jack, who used to 
make such a fuss about picking up one’s 
pocket-handkerchief and opening the door 
for one.” 

It seems to me,” said Gertrude, that 
to think about those sort of things makes 


156 THE ROMANCE OF A SHOP. 

one almost as mean as the people who do 
them.” 

And directly a person ^hows himself 
capable of doing them, why, it ceases to 
matter about him in the least,” added 
Lucy, with youthful magnificence. 

Gertrude was silent a moment, then said, 
with something of an effort : ^‘Let us direct 
our attention to the charming new people 
we have got to know. One gets to know 
them in such a much more pleasant way, 
somehow.” 

Lucy bent her head over her work, 
hiding her flushed face as she answered, 
‘‘That is the best of being poor; one’s 
chances of artificial acquaintanceships are 
so much lessened. One gains in quality 
what one loses in quantity.” 

“How moral we are growing,” cried 
Phyllis. “We shall be quoting Scripture 
next, and saying it is harder for the camel 
to get through the needle’s eye, &c., &c.” 

Gertrude laughed. 

“ There is another point to consider,” she 
said. “ I suppose you both know that we 
are not making our fortunes ? ” 

“ Yes,” answered Lucy ; “ but, at the 
same time, the business has almost doubled 
itself in the course of the last three months.” 


SUMMING UP. 


157 


‘‘ That sounds more prosperous than it 
really is, Lucy. If it hadn’t done so, we 
should have had to think seriously of giving 
it up. And, as it is, we cannot be sure, till 
the end of the year, that we shall be able to 
hold on.” 

‘‘You mean the end of the business year; 
next June?” 

“ Yes ; Mr. Eussel is coming, and there 
is to be a great overhauling of accounts.” 

Gertrude lay awake that night long after 
her sisters were asleep. Her brief rebellious 
mood of the morning had passed away, and, 
looking back on the year behind her, she 
experienced a measure of the content which 
we all feel after something attempted, some- 
thing done. That she had been brought 
face to face with the sterner side of life, 
had lost some illusions, suffered some pain, 
she did not regret. It seemed to her that 
she had not paid too great a price for the 
increased reality of her present existence. 

She fell asleep, then woke at dawn with 
a low cry. She had been dreaming of Lucy 
and Frank; had seen their faces, as she had 
seen them the day before, bright with the 
glow of the light which never was on sea 
and land. Oh, she had always known, nay. 


158 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP, 

hoped, that this, or rather something akin 
to this, would come ; yet sharp was the pang 
that ran through her at the recollection. 

It had always seemed to her highly im- 
probable that her sisters, portionless as they 
were, should remain unmarried. One day, 
she had always told herself, they would go 
away, and she and Fanny would be left 
alone. She did not wish it otherwise. She 
had a feminine belief in love as the crown 
and flower of life ; yet, as the shadow of 
the coming separation fell upon her, her 
spirit grew desolate and afraid ; and, lying 
there in the chill grey morning, she wept 
very bitterly. 




CHAPTEE XI. 

A CONFIDENCE. 


It may he one will dance to-day, 

And dance no more to-morrow ; 

It may be one will steal away, 

And nurse a lifelong sorrow ; 

What then ? The rest advance, evade, 

Unite, disport, and dally, 

Be-set, coquet, and gallopade. 

Not less — in “ Cupid^s Alley.'* 

Austin Dobson. 

M e. DAEKELL has sent us a card for his 
Private View,” announced Gertrude, as 
they sat at tea one Saturday afternoon in 
the sitting-room. 

“ Oh, let me look, Gerty,” cried Phyllis, 
taking possession of the bit of pasteboard. 

‘ The Misses Lorimer and friends.’ Why 
Conny might go with us.” 



160 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

Constance Devonshire had dropped in 
npon them unexpectedly that afternoon, 
after an absence of several weeks. She was 
looking wretchedly ill. Her usually blooming 
complexion had changed to a curious waxen 
colour ; her round face had fallen away ; 
there were dark hollows under the unnatur- 
ally brilliant eyes. 

I should rather like to go, if you think 
you may take me,” she said ; then added, 
with an air of not very spontaneous gaiety ; 

suppose it will be what the society 
papers call a ‘ smart function.’ ” 

Stoicism, it has been observed, is a savage 
virtue. There was something of savagery 
in Conny’s fierce reserve ; in the way in 
which she resolutely refused to acknow- 
ledge, what was evident to the most casual 
observer, that there was something seriously 
amiss with her health and spirits. 

“Is it not fortunate,” said Lucy, “that 
Uncle Sebastian should have sent us that 
cheque ? Now we shall be able to get our- 
selves some decent clothes.” 

“ I mean to have a grey cachemire walk- 
ing-dress, and my evening dress shall be 
grey too,” announced Phyllis, who was one 
of the rare people who can wear that colour 


A CONFIDENCE. 


ICl 


to advantage. Fanny, who had rigid ideas 
about mourning, declared with an air of 
severity that her own new outfit should be 
black, then sighed, as though to call atten- 
tion to the fact of her constancy to the 
memory of the dead, in the face of the 
general heedlessness. 

Gerty is thinking of rose-colour, is she 
not?” asked Phyllis, innocently, as she 
marked Gertrude’s rapidly-suppressed move- 
ment of irritation. 

‘‘As regards a gown for this precious 
Private View — I am not going to it.” 

“ The head of the firm ought to show up 
on such an occasion, as a mere matter of 
business,” observed Lucy, smiling amiably 
at every one in general. 

“ Yes, really, Gerty,” added Phyllis, “ you 
are the person to inspire confidence as to- 
the quality of our work. No one would 
suspect us ” — indicating herself and her 
two other sisters — “ of being clever. It 
would be considered unlikely that nature 
should heap up all her benefits on the same 
individuals.” 

“ Am I such a fright ? ” asked Gertrude,, 
a little wistfully. 

“No, darling ; but there could be no 
12 


1G2 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

doubt about your brains with that 
face.” 

‘^Wait a few years,” said Conny; she 
will be the best looking of you all.” 

We will ‘ wait till she is eighty in the 
shade,’ ” quoted Phyllis ; but when one 
comes to think of it, what a well-endowed 
family we are. Not only is our genius good- 
looking; that is a comparatively common 
case ; but our beauties are so exceedingly 
intelligent ; aren’t they, Lucy? ” 

Constance Devonshire was right. Sidney 
Darrell’s Private View at the Berkley Gal- 
leries, held on the last day of April, was a 
very smart function indeed. There were 
duchesses, beauties, statesmen, and clever 
people of every description galore. In the 
midst of them all Darrell himself shone re- 
splendent ; gracious, urbane, polished ; in- 
fusing just the right amount of cordiality 
into his many greetings, according to the 
deserts of the person greeted. 

‘'I never saw any one who possessed to 
greater perfection the art of impressing his 
importance on other people,” whispered 
Conny to Gertrude, as the two girls strolled 
off together into one of the smaller rooms. - 
Lucy had been led off by Frank and one of 


A CONFIDENCE. 


1G3 


his friends. That young woman was never 
long in any mixed assembly without attract- 
ing persons of the male sex to her side. 

As for Phyllis, radiant in the new grey 
costume, its soft tints set off by a knot of 
Parma violets at the throat, she was making 
the round of the pictures under the escort of 
no less a person than Lord Watergate, who 
had come up to the Lorimers at the moment 
of their entrance ; and Fanny, in a jetted 
mantle and bonnet, clanked about with Mr. 
Oakley, happy in the consciousness of being 
for once in the best society. 

What a dreary thing a London crowd 
is,” grumbled Conny, who was not accus- 
tomed, in her own set, to being left squire- 
less. 

Oh, but this is fun. So different from 
the parties one used to go to,” said Ger- 
trude, smiling, as Lord Watergate and her 
sister came up to them, to direct their 
attention to a particular canvas in the other 
room. 

As they sauntered, in a body, to the en- 
trance, Darrell came up with a young man 
of the masher type in his wake, whom he 
introduced to Phyllis as Lord Malplaquet. 

Lord Malplaquet is dying to hear your 


164 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

theories of life,” he said playfully, bestow- 
ing a beaming and confidential smile upon 
her. 

Mr. Darrell, you shall not amuse your- 
self at my expense,” she responded gaily, 
as she plunged into the crowd under the 
wing of her new escort, who was staring at 
her with the languid yet undisguised admi- 
ration of his class. 

‘^Now this is the real thing,” said Lord 
Watergate to Gertrude, as they stopped 
before the canvas they had come to seek. 

‘‘Yes,” said Gertrude, in mechanical ac- 
quiescence. 

She was thinking : “ What a mean soul I 
must have. Every one seems to like and 
admire this Sidney Darrell : and I suspect 
everything about him — even his art. For 
the sake of a prejudice ; of a little hurt 
vanity, perhaps, as well.” 

“That, ‘yes,’ hasn’t the ring of the true 
coin. Miss Lorimer.” 

“This is scarcely the time and place for 
criticism. Lord Watergate,” laughed Ger- 
trude. 

“For hostile criticism, you mean. You 
are a terrible person to please, are you not? ” 

As the room began to clear Darrell took 


A CONFIDENCE. 


1G5 


Prank aside, and glancing in the direction 
of the sisters, who had re-united their forces, 
said: ‘‘You know those girls, intimately, I 
believe/' 

“ Yes.” (Very promptly.) 

“ I wonder if that beautiful Phyllis would 
sit to me ? 

“ She would probably be immensely 
honoured.” 

“ Well, you see, it’s this : I want her for 
Cressida.” 

“ Bather a disagreeable sort of subject^ 
isn’t it ? ” said Frank, doubtfully ; then 
added, with professional interest : “I didn’t 
know you had such a picture on hand, Mr. 
Darrell.” 

“ The idea occurred to me this very after- 
noon. It was the sight of the fair Phyllis, 
in fact, which suggested it.” 

“Were you thinking of the scene in the 
orchard, or in the Greek camp ? ” 

“Neither; one could hardly ask a lady 
to sit for such a picture. No, it is Cressida, 
before her fall, I want ; as she stands at the 
street corner with Pandarus, waiting for the 
Trojan heroes to pass, don’t you know? 
Half ironical, half wistful ; with the light of 
that little tendre for Troilus just beginniug 


1C6 TBE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

to dawn in her eyes. She would be the 
very thing for it.” 

‘‘Are yon going to propose it to her?” 
said Frank, who looked as if he did not 
much relish the idea. 

“ I shall ask her to sit for me, at any rate. 
There’s the dragon-sister to be got round 
first.” 

“ Indeed you are mistaken about Miss 
Lorimer.” 

Darrell gave a short laugh. “ I beg your 
pardon, my dear fellow ! ” 

Frank frowned, and Darrell, going forward 
to the Lorimers, preferred his request. 

Phyllis looked pleased ; and Gertrude, 
suppressing the signs of her secret dislike to 
the scheme, said, quietly : 

“ Phyllis must refer you to her sister 
Fauny. It depends on whether she can 
spare the time to bring her to your studio.” 

She glanced up as she spoke, and met, 
almost with open defiance, the heavy grey 
eyes of the man opposite. From these she 
perceived the irony to have faded ; she 
read nothing there but a cold dislike. 

It was an old, old story the fierce yet 
silent opposition between these two people ; 
an inevitable antipathy ; a strife of type 


A CONFIDENCE. 


167 


and type, of class and class, rather than of 
individuals : the strife of the woman who 
demands respect, with the man who refuses 
to grant it. 

Phyllis was in high feather at her suc- 
cessful afternoon, at the compliment paid 
her by the great Sidney in particular ; and 
Fanny rather brightened at the prospect of 
what bore even so distant a resemblance to 
an occupation, as chaperoning her sister to 
a studio. 

Only Conny was silent and depressed, and 
when they reached Baker-street, followed 
Gertrude to her room. Here she flung 
herself on the bed, regardless of her new 
transparent black hat, and its daffodil 
trimmings. 

‘‘ Gerty, ‘ the world’s a beast, and I hate 
it ! ’ ” 

^‘You are not well, Conny. If you 
would only acknowledge the fact, and see a 
doctor.” 

“ Gerty, come here.’^ 

Gertrude went over to the bed, secretly 
alarmed; something in her friend’s tones 
frightened her. 


168 THE ROMANCE OF A SHOP. 

Conny crushed her face against the 
pillows, then said in smothered tones : 

I can’t hear it any longer. I must tell 
some one or it will kill me.” 

Gertrude grew pale ; instinctively she felt 
what was coming ; instinctively she desired 
to ward it off. 

Can’t you guess ? Oh, you may say 
it is humiliating, unworthy; I know that.” 
She raised her face suddenly : Oh, Gerty, 
how can I help it ? He is so different from 
them all ; from the sneaks who want -one’s 
money ; from the bad imitations of fashion- 
able young men, who snub, and patronise, 
and sneer at us all. Who could help it ? 
Frank ” 

Conny, Conny, you musn’t tell me 
this.” 

Gertrude caught her friend in her arms, 
so as to shield her face. She disapproved, 
generally speaking, of confidences of this 
kind, considering them bad for both giver 
and receiver ; but this particular confidence 
she felt to be simply intolerable. 

Gerty, what have I done, what have I 
said ? ” 

“Nothing, really nothing. Con, dear old 
girl. You have told me nothing.” 


A CONFIDENCE. 


1G9 


A pause ; then Conny said, between the 
sobs which at last had broken forth : How 
can I bear my life ? How can I bear it ? ” 

Gertrude was very pale. 

‘‘We all have to bear things, Conny; 
often this kind of thing, we women.” 

“ I don’t think I can.'' 

“ Yes, you will. You have no end of 
pluck. One day you are going to be very 
happy.” 

“ Never, Gerty. We rich girls always 
end up with sneaks — no decent person 
comes near us.” 

“ There are other things which make 
happiness besides — pleasant things happen- 
ing to one.” 

“ What sort of things ? ” 

Gertrude paused a minute, then said 
bravely : “ Our own self-respect, and the 
integrity of the people we care for.” 

“ That sounds very nice,” replied Conny, 
without enthusiasm, “ but I should like a 
little of the more obvious sorts of happiness 
as well.” 

Gertrude gave a laugh, which was also a 
sob. 

“ So should I, Conny, so should I.” 



CHAPTER XII. 

GEETEUDE IS ANXIOUS. 

Lady, do you knotc the tune ? 

Ah, tee all of us have hummed it ! 

Tve an old guitar has thrummed it 
Under many a changing moon. 

Thackeray. 

W HEN Frank next saw Sidney Darrell, 
the latter told him that he had 
abandoned the idea of the “ Cressida,” and 
was painting Phyllis Lorimer in her own 
character. 

Grey gown; Parma violets; grey and 
purplish background. Shall let Sir Coutts 
have it, I think,” he added ; it will show 
up better at his place than amid the jpro- 
fanum vulgus of Burlington House.” 

“ Mr. Darrell doesn’t often paint portraits, 



GEBTEUDE IS ANXIOUS. Ill 

does he?” Lucy said, when Jermyn was 
discussing the matter one evening in Baker 
Street. 

‘‘ Not often; but those that he lias done 
are among his finest work. That one of 
poor Lady Watergate for instance — it is 
Carolus Duran at his very best.” 

By the bye, what an incongruous friend- 
ship it always seems to me — Lord Water- 
gate and Mr. Darrell,” said Lucy. 

Oh, I don’t know that it’s much of a 
friendship,” answered Frank. 

‘‘ Lord Watergate often drops in at The 
Sycamores,” put in Phyllis, helping herself 
from a smart honbonniei'e from Charbonnel 
and Walker’s; for Sidney found many in- 
direct means of paying his pretty model ; 
‘‘ I think he is such a nice old person.” 

‘‘Old,” cried Fanny; “he is not old at 
all. I looked him out in Mr. Darrell’s 
Peerage. He is thirty- seven, and his name 
is Ealph.” 

“ ‘ I love my love with an E..’ You 
said it just in that way. Fan,” laughed 
Phyllis. “Yes, it is an odd friendship, if 
one comes to think of it — that big, kind, 
simple. Lord Watergate, and my elaborate 
friend, Sidney.” 


172 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

^‘Mr. Darrell is a perfect gentleman,” 
interposed Fan, with dignity. 

The occasional mornings at The Syca- 
mores, afforded a pleasant break in the mono- 
tony of her existence. Darrell treated her 
with a careful, if ironical politeness, which 
she accepted in all good faith. 

Fan, as they call her, is a fool, but 
none the worse for that,” had been his 
brief summing up of the poor lady, whom, 
indeed, he rather liked than otherwise. 

It was the end of May, and the sittings 
had been going on in a spasmodic, irregular 
fashion, throughout the month. Both the 
girls enjoyed them. Darrell, like the rest 
of the world, treated Phyllis as a spoilt 
child ; gave her sweets and flowers galore ; 
and what was better, tickets for concerts, 
galleries, and theatres, of which her sisters 
also reaped the benefit. 

Gertrude secretly disliked the whole pro- 
ceeding, but, aware that she had no rea- 
sonable objection to offer, wisely held her 
peace ; telling herself that if one person 
did not turn her little sister’s head, another 
was sure to do so; and perhaps the sooner she 
was accustomed to the process the better. 

‘‘Why won’t you come up and see my 


GEBTBUDE IS ANXIOUS. 173 

portrait?” Phyllis had pleaded; “I am 
going next Sunday, so you can have no 
excuse.” 

‘‘ I shall see it when it is finished,” Ger- 
trude had answered. 

“ Oh, but you can get a good idea of what 
it will look like, already. It is a great thing, 
life-size, and ends at about the knees. I 
am standing up and looking over my 
shoulder, so. I suppose Mr. Darrell has 
found out how nicely my head turns round 
on my neck.” 

Gertrude had laughed, and even attempted 
a pun in her reply, but she did not accom- 
pany her sister to The Sycamores. Indeed, 
more subtle reasons apart, she had little 
time to spare for unnecessary outings. 

The business, as businesses will, had taken 
a turn for the better, and the two members 
of the partnership had their hands full. 
Eumours of the Photographic Studio had 
somehow got abroad, and various branches 
of the public were waking up to an interest 
in it. 

People who had theories about woman’s 
work ; people whose friends had theories ; 
people who were curious and fond of 
novelty; individuals from each of these 


174 TEE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

sections, began to find their way to Upper 
Baker Street. Gertrude, as we know, had 
refused at an early stage of their career 
to be interviewed by The Waterloo Place 
Gazette; but, later on, some unauthorised 
person wrote a little account of the Lorimers’ 
studio in one of the society papers, of which, 
if the taste was questionable, the results 
were not to be questioned at all. 

Moreover, it had got about in certain sets 
that all the sisters were extremely beautiful, 
and that Sidney Darrell was painting them 
in a group for next year’s Academy, a 
canard certainly not to deprecated from a 
business point of view. 

Such things as these, do not, of course, 
make the solid basis of success, but in a 
very overcrowded world, they are apt to be 
the most frequent openings to it. In these 
days, the aspirant to fame is inclined to 
over-value them, forgetting that there is 
after all something to be said for making 
one’s performance such as will stand the 
test of so much publicity. 

The Lorimers knew little of the world, 
and of the workings of the complicated 
machinery necessary for getting on in it ; 
and while chance favoured them in the 


GEBTBUDE IS ANXIOUS, 175 

matter of gratuitous advertisement, devoted 
their energies to keeping up their work to 
as high a standard as possible. 

Life, indeed, was opening up for them in 
more ways than one. The calling which 
they pursued brought them into contact 
with all sorts and conditions of men, among 
them, people in many ways more congenial 
to them than the mass of their former 
acquaintance ; intercourse with the latter 
having come about in most cases through 
^^juxtaposition” rather than affinity.” 

They began to get glimpses of a world 
more varied and interesting than their own, 
of that world of cultivated, middle-class 
London, which approached more nearly, 
perhaps, than any other to Gertrude’s ideal 
society of picked individuals. 

And it was Gertrude, more than any of 
them, who appreciated the new state of 
things. She was beginning, for the first 
time, to find her own level; to taste the 
sweets of genuine work and genuine social 
intercourse. Fastidious and sensitive as she 
was, she had yet a great fund of enjoyment 
of life within her ; of that impersonal, 
objective enjoyment which is so often denied 
to her sex. Believed of the pressing 


176 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

anxieties which had attended the beginning 
of their enterprise, the natural elasticity of 
her spirits asserted itself. A common 
atmosphere of hope and cheerfulness per- 
vaded the little household at Upper Baker 
Street. 

The evening of which I write was one of 
the last of May, and Frank had come in to 
bid them farewell, before setting out the 
next morning for a short holiday in Corn- 
wall ; ‘^the old folks,” as he called his 
parents, growing impatient of their only 
son’s prolonged absence. 

The country will be looking its very 
best,” cried Frank, who loved his beauti- 
ful home ; “ the sea a mass of sapphire 
with the great downs rolling towards it. I 
mean to have a big swim the very first 
thing. No one knows what the sea is like, 
till they have been to Cornwall. And St. 
Colomb — I wish you could see St. Colomb ! 
Why, the whole place is smaller than Baker 
Street. The little bleak, grey street, with 
the sou’wester blowing through it at all 
times and seasons — there are scarcely two 
houses on the same level. And then — 


“ ‘ The little grey church on the windy hill,’ 


GEBTBUDE IS ANXIOUS, 


177 


and beyond, the great green vicarage garden, 
and the vicarage, and the dear old folks look- 
ing out at the gate.” 

He rose reluctantly to go. One day I hope 
you will see it for yourselves — all of you.” 

With which impersonal statement, de- 
livered in a voice which rather belied its 
impersonal nature, Frank dropped Lucy’s 
hand, which he had been holding with un- 
necessary firmness, and departed abruptly 
from the room. 

Gertrude looked rather anxiously towards 
her sister, who sat quietly sewing, with a 
little smile on her lips. How far, she 
wondered, had matters gone between Lucy 
and Frank ? Was the happiness of either or 
both irrevocably engaged in the pretty game 
which they were playing ? Heaven forbid 
that her sisterly solicitude should lead her 
to question the “ intentions ” of every man 
who came near them; a hideous feminine 
practice abhorrent to her very soul. Yet, 
their own position, Gertrude felt, was a 
peculiar one, and she could not but be 
aware of the dangers inseparable from the 
freedom which they eujo5^ed ; dangers which 
are the price to be paid for all close intimacy 
between young men and women. 

13 


178 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

After all, what do women know about a 
man, even when they live opposite him ? 
And do not men, the very best of them, 
allow themselves immense license in the 
matter of loving and riding away ? 

As for Frank, he never made the slightest 
pretence that the Lorimers enjoyed a mono- 
poly of his regard. He talked freely of the 
charms of Nellie and Carry and Emily; there 
was a certain Ethel, of South Kensington, 
whose praises he was never weary of sound- 
ing. Moreover, there could be no doubt that 
at one time or other he had displayed a good 
deal of interest in Constance Devonshire ; 
dancing with her half the night, as Fred had 
expressed it ; a mutual fitness in waltz- steps 
scarcely being enough to account for his 
attentions. And even supposing a more 
serious element to have entered into his 
regard for Lucy, was he not as poor as 
themselves, and was it not the last con- 
tingency for a prudent sister to desire ? 

What a calculating crone I am grow- 
ing,” thought Gertrude; then observing 
the tranquil and busy object of her fears, 
laughed at herself, half ashamed. 

The next day Mr. Eussel came to see 
them, and entered on a careful examination 


GEBTBUDE IS ANXIOVS. 179 

of their accounts : compared the business of 
the last three months with that of the first ; 
praised the improved quality of their work, 
and strongly advised them, if it were pos- 
sible, to hold on for another year. This 
they were able to do. Although, of course, 
the money invested in the business had 
returned anything but a high rate of 
interest, their economy had been so strict 
that there would be enough of their original 
funds to enable them to carry oh the 
struggle for the next twelve months, by 
which time, if matters progressed at their 
present rate, they might consider them- 
selves permanently established in business. 

Before he went Mr. Eussel said some- 
thing to Lucy which disturbed her con- 
siderably, though it made her smile. He 
had been for many years a widower, living 
with his mother, but the old lady had died 
in the course of the year, and now he sug- 
gested, modestly enough, that Lucy should 
return as mistress to the home where she 
had once been a welcome guest. 

The girl found it difficult to put her 
refusal into words; this kind friend had 
hitherto given everything and asked no- 
thing ; but there was a delicate soul under 


180 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

the brusque exterior, and directly he divined 
how matters stood, he did his best to save 
her compunction. 

‘^It really doesn’t matter, you know. 
Please don’t give it another thought.” He 
had observed in an off-hand manner, which 
had amused while it touched her. 

Lucy was magnanimous enough to keep 
this little episode to herself, though Ger- 
trude had her suspicions as to what had 
occurred. 




CHAPTEE XIII. 

A EOMANCE. 

W/ie?i strawberry pottles are common and cheap 
Ere elms be black or limes be sere, 

When midnight dances are murdering sleep. 

Then comes in the sweet o’ the year! 

Andrew LANa 

T he second week in June saw Frank 
back in his old quarters above the- 
auctioneer’s. He had arrived late in the 
evening, and put off going to see the 
Lorimers till the first thing the next day. 
It was some time before business hours 
when he rang at Number 20b, and was 
ushered by Matilda into the studio, where 
he found Phyllis engaged in a rather per- 
functory wielding of a feather-duster. 

She was looking distractingly pretty, as 


182 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

he perceived when she turned to greet him. 
Her close-fitting black dress, with the spray 
of tuberose at the throat, and the great 
holland apron with its braided bib suited 
her to perfection ; the sober tints setting off 
to advantage the delicate tones of her com- 
plexion, which in these days was more 
wonderfully pink and white than ever. 

And how are your sisters ? I needn’t 
ask how you are ? ” cried Frank, who in the 
earlier stages of theh acquaintance had been 
rather surprised at himself for not falling 
desperately in love with Phyllis Lorimer. 

‘‘Everybody is flourishing,” she an- 
swered, leaning against the little mantel- 
shelf in the waiting-room, and looking down 
upon Frank’s sunburnt, uplifted face. 

A look of mischief flashed into her eyes as 
she added, “There is a great piece of news.” 

Frank grasped the back of the frail red 
chair on which he sat astride in a manner 
rather dangerous to its well-being, and said 
abruptly, “ Well, what is it ? ” 

“ One of us is going to be married.” 

“ Oh ! ” said Frank, with a sort of gasp, 
which was not lost on his interlocutor. 

“ I am not going to tell you which it is. 
You must guess,” went on Phyllis, looking 


A BOMANCE, 


183 


down upon him demurely from under her 
drooped lids, while a fine smile played about 
her lips. 

Oh, I’ll begin at the beginning,” said 
poor Frank, with rather strained cheerful- 
ness. Is it Miss Gertrude ? ” 

Phyllis played a moment with the feather- 
duster, then answered slowly, You must 
guess again.” 

Is it Miss Lucy ? ” (with a jerk.) 

A pause. No,” said Phyllis, at last. 

Frank sprang to his feet with a beaming 
countenance and caught both her hands 
with unfeigned cordiality. Then it is you. 
Miss Phyllis, that I have to congratulate.” 

Her eyes twinkled with suppressed mirth 
as she answered ruefully, ‘‘No, indeed, Mr. 
Jermyn ! ” 

Frank dropped her hands, wrinkling his 
brows in perplexity, then a light dawned on 
him suddenly, and was reflected in his ex- 
pressive countenance. 

“ It must be Fan ! ” He forgot the prefix 
in his astonishment. 

Phillis nodded. “ But you musn’t look 
so surprised,” she said, taking a chair beside 
him. “Why shouldn’t poor old Fan be 
married as well as other people ? ” 


184 


THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 


Of course ; how stupid of me not to 
think of it before,” said Frank, vaguely. 

It is quite a romance,” went on Phyllis; 
‘‘ she and Mr. Marsh wanted to be married 
ages and ages ago. But he was too poor, 
and went to Australia. Now he is well off, 
and has come back to marry Fan, like a 
person in a hook. A touching tale of 
young love, is it not ? ” 

“Yes ; I think it a very touching and pretty 
story,” said Frank, severely ignoring the 
note of irony in her voice. 

He had all a man’s dislike to hearing a 
woman talk cynically of sentiment ; that 
should he exclusively a masculine privilege, 
“Perhaps,” said Phyllis, “it takes the 
bloom off it a little, that Edward Marsh 
married on the way out. But his wife 
died last year, so it is all right.” 

Frank burst out laughing, Phyllis joining 
him. A minute later Gertrude and Lucy 
came in and confirmed the wonderful news ; 
and the four young people stood gossiping, 
till the sound of the studio bell reminded 
them that the day’s work had begun. 

Jermyn came in, by invitation, to supper 
that night, and was introduced to the new 
arrival, a big, burly man of middle age, 


A EOMANCE. 


185 


whose forest of black beard afforded only 
very occasional glimpses of his face. 

As for Fanny, it was touching to see 
how this faded flower had revived in the 
sunshine. The little superannuated airs 
and graces had come boldly into play; 
and Edward Marsh, who was a simple 
soul, accepted them as the proper ex- 
pression of feminine sweetness. 

So she curled her little finger and put her 
head on one side with all the vigour that 
assurance of success will give to any per- 
formance ; gave vent to her most illogical 
statements in her most mincing tones, 
uncontradicted and undisturbed; in short, 
took advantage to the full of her sojourn 
(to quote George Eliot) in “ the woman’s 
paradise where all her nonsenseis adorable.” 

I don’t know what those girls will 
do without me,” Fanny said to her lover, 
who took the remark in such good faith 
as to make her believe in it herself; “we 
must see that we do not settle too far 
away from them.” 

And she delicately set a stitch in the 
bead-work slipper which she was engaged 
in “ grounding ” for the simple-hearted 
Edward. 


186 THE ROMANCE OF A SHOP. 

Fanny patronised her sisters a good deal 
in these days ; and it must be owned — 
such is the nature of woman — that her im- 
portance had gone up considerably in their 
estimation. 

As for Mr. Marsh, he regarded his future 
relatives with a mixture of alarm and per- 
plexity that secretly delighted them. Never 
for a moment did his allegiance to Fanny 
falter before their superior charms ; never 
for a moment did the fear of such a con- 
tingency disturb poor Fanny’s peace of 
mind. 

Only the girls themselves, in the depths 
of their hearts, wondered a little at finding 
themselves regarded with about the same 
amount of personal interest as was accorded 
to Matilda, by no means a specimen of the 
sparkling soubrette. 

Gertrude, wFo had rather feared the 
effect of the contrast of Fanny’s faded 
charms with the youthful prettiness of the 
two younger girls, was relieved, and at the 
same time a little indignant, to perceive 
that, as far as Edward Marsh Tvas con- 
cerned, Phyllis’s hair might be red and 
Lucy’s eyes a brilliant green. 

For once, indeed. Fan’s tactlessness had 


A HOMANCU. 


187 


succeeded where the linest tact might have 
failed. In dropping at once into position 
as the Fanny of ten years ago; as the 
incarnation of all that is sweetest and most 
essentially feminine in woman ; in making 
of herself an accepted and indisputable 
fact, she had unconsciously done the very 
best to secure her own happiness. 

There really is something about Fanny 
that pleases men. I have always said so,” 
Phyllis remarked, as she watched the lovers 
sailing blissfully down Baker Street, on 
one of their' many house-hunting expedi- 
tions. 

You know,” added Lucy, ‘‘ she always 
dislikes walking about alone, because people 
speak to her. No one ever speaks to us, 
do they, Gerty ? ” 

“Nor to me — at least, not often,” said 
Phyllis, ruefully. 

“ Phyllis, will you never learn where to 
draw the line?” cried Gertrude; “but it 
is quite true about Fan. She must be that 
mysterious creature, a man’s woman.” 

“ Mr. Darrell likes her,” broke forth 
Phyllis, after a pause ; “ he laughs at her 
in that quiet way of his, but I am quite 
sure that he likes her. I hope,” she added. 


188 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

‘‘that she won’t get married before my 
portrait is finished. But it wouldn’t matter, 
I could go without a chaperon.” 

“ No, you couldn’t,” said Gertrude, 
shortly. 

“ Why are you seized with such notions 
of propriety all of a sudden ? ” 

“ I have no wish to put us to a dis- 
advantage by ignoring the ordinary practices 
of life.” 

“ Then put up the shutters and get rid 
of the lease. But, Gerty, we needn’t dis- 
cuss this unpleasant matter yet awhile. By 
the by, Mr. Darrell is going to ask me to 
sit for him in a picture, after the portrait. 
He has made sketches for it already — some- 
thing out of one of Shakespeare’s plays.” 

“ Oh, I am tired of Mr. Darrell’s name. 
Go and see that your dress is in order for 
the Devonshires’ dance to-night.” 

Apropos y'' said Lucy, as Phyllis flitted 
off on the congenial errand, “ why is it 
that we never see anything of Conny in 
these days ? ” 

“ She is going out immensely this sea- 
son,” answered Gertrude, dropping her eye- 
lids ; “hut, at any rate, we get a double 
allowance of Bred to compensate.” 


A EOMANCE. 


189 


“ Silly boy,” cried Lucy, flushing slightly, 
‘^he has actually made me promise to sit 
out two dances with him. Such waste, 
when one is dying for a waltz.” 

Oh, there will be plenty of waltzing. 
I wish you could have my share,” sighed 
Gertrude, who had been won over by 
Conny’s entreaties to promise attendance 
at the dance that night. 

‘‘It is time you left off these patriarchal 
airs, Gerty. You are as fond of dancing 
as any of us ; and I mean you to spin round 
all night like a teetotum.” 

“ What a charming picture you conjure 
up, Lucy.’^ 

“You people with imaginations are always 
finding fault. Fortunately for me, I have 
no imagination, and very little humour,” 
said Lucy, with an air of genuine thank- 
fulness that delighted her sister. 

Thus, with work and play, and very much 
gossip, the summer days went by. The 
three girls found life full and pleasant, and 
Fanny had her little hour. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

LUCY. 


Who is Silvia ? What is she, 

That all our swains commend her ? 

Two Gentlemen of Verona. 

rilHEEE was no mistaking the situation. 
X At one of the red-legged tables sat 
Fred, his arms spread out before him, his 
face hidden in his arms ; while Lucy, with 
a troubled face, stood near, struggling be- 
tween her genuine compunction and- an 
irrepressible desire to laugh. 

It was Sunday morning ; the rest of the 
household were at church, and the two 
young people had had the studio to them- 
selves without fear of disturbance; a cir- 
cumstance of which the unfortunate Fred 



LVCY. 


191 


had hastened to avail himself, thereby 
rushing on his fate. 

They had now reached that stage of 
the proceedings when the rejected suitor, 
finding entreaty of no avail, has recourse 
to manifestations of despair and reproach. 

You shouldn’t have encouraged a fellow 
all these years,” came hoarsely from be- 
tween the arms and face of the prostrate 
swain. 

‘‘‘All these years!’ how can you be 
so silly, Fred?” cried Lucy, with some 
asperity. “ Why, I shall be accused next 
of encouraging little Jack Oakley, because 
I bowled his hoop round Eegent’s Park for 
him last week.” 

Lucy did not mean to be unkind ; but 
the really unexpected avowal from her old 
playmate had made her nervous ; a refusal 
to treat it seriously seemed to her the best 
course to pursue. But her last words, as 
might have been supposed, were too much 
for poor Fred. Up he sprang, “ a wounded 
thing with a rancorous cry ” — 

“ There is another fellow 1 ” 

Back started Lucy, as if she had been 
shot. The hot blood surged up into her 
face, the tears rose to her eyes. • 


192 THE BOMANCE OF A SHQP. 

‘‘ What has that to do with it ? ” she 
cried, stung suddenly to cruelty; ‘‘what 
has that to do with it, when, if you were the 
only man in the world, I would not marry 
you ? ” 

Fred, hurt and 'shocked by this unex- 
pected attack from gentle Lucy, gathered 
himself up with something more like dignity 
than he had displayed in the course of the 
interview. 

“Oh, very well,” he said, taking up his hat ; 
“perhaps one of these days you will be 
sorry for what you have done. I’m not 
much, I know, but you won’t find many 
people to care for you as I would have 
cared.” His voice broke suddenly, and he 
made his way rather blindly to the door. 

Lucy was trembling all over, and as 
pale as, a moment ago, she had been red. 
She wanted to say something, as she 
watched him fumbling unsteadily with the 
door-handle ; but her lips refused to frame 
the words. 

Without lifting his head he passed into 
the little passage. Lucy heard his retreat- 
ing footsteps, then her eye fell on a roll of 
newspapers at _her feet. She picked them 
up hastily. 


LVCY. 


193 


Fred,” she cried, you have forgotten 
these.” 

But he vouchsafed no answer, and in 
another moment she heard the outer door 
shut. 

She stood a moment with the ridiculous 
bundle in her hand — Tit-Bits and a pink, 
crushed copy of The Sporting Times — 
then something between a laugh and a sob 
rose in her throat, the papers fell to the 
ground, and sinking on her knees by the 
table, she buried her face in her hands 
and burst into bitter weeping. 

Gertrude, coming in from church some 
ten minutes later, found her sister thus 
prostrate. 

The sight unnerved her from its very 
unusualness ; bending over Lucy she whis- 
pered, Am I to go away ? ” 

‘‘ No, stop here.” 

Gertrude locked the door, then came and 
knelt by her sister. 

^^Oh, poor Fred, and I was so horrid to 
him,” wept the penitent. 

Ah, I was afraid it would come.” 

Gertrude stroked the prone, smooth head ; 
she feared that the thought of some one else 
besides Fred lay at the bottom of all this 
14 


194 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

disturbance. She was very anxious for 
Lucy in these days ; very anxious and very 
helpless. There was only one person, she 
knew too well, who could restore to Lucy 
her old sweet serenity, and he, alas, made 
no sign. 

What was she to think ? One thing was 
clear enough ; the old pleasant relationship 
between themselves and Frank was at an 
end ; if renewed at all, it must be renewed 
on a different basis. A disturbing element, 
an element of self-consciousness had crept 
into it ; the delicate charm, the first bloom 
of simplicity, had departed for ever. 

It was now the middle of July, and for the 
last week or two they had seen scarcely 
anything of Jermyn, beyond the glimpses of 
him as he lounged up the street, with his 
sombrero crushed over his eyes, all the im- 
petuosity gone from his gait. 

That he distinctly avoided them, there 
could be little doubt. Though he was to be 
seen looking across at the house wistfully 
enough, he made no attempt to see them, 
and his greetings when they chanced to 
meet were of the most formal nature. 

The change in his conduct had been so 
marked and sudden, that it was impossible 


LUCY. 


195 


that it should escape observation. Fanny, 
with an air of superior knowledge, gave it out 
as her belief that Mr. Jermyn was in love ; 
Phyllis held to the opinion that he had been 
fired with the idea of a big picture, and 
was undergoing the throes of artistic con- 
ception ; Grertrude said lightly, that she 
supposed he was out of sorts and disinclined 
for society ; while Lucy held her peace, and 
indulged in many inward sophistries to 
convince herself that her own unusual 
restlessness and languor had nothing to do 
with their neighbour’s disaffection. 

It was these carefully woven self-decep- 
tions that had been so rudely scattered by 
Fred’s words ; and Lucy, kneeling by the 
scarlet table, had for the first time looked 
her fate in the face, and diagnosed her own 
complaint. 

‘‘Lucy,” said Gertrude, after a pause, 
“ bathe your eyes and come for a walk in 
the Park; there is time before lunch.” 

Lucy rose, drying her wet face with her 
handkerchief. 

“Let me look at you,” cried Gertrude. 
“ What is the charm ? Where does it lie ? 
Why are these sort of things always hap- 
pening to you ? ” 


196 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

“ Oh,” answered Lucy, with an attempt at 
a smile, “I am a convenient, middling sort 
of person, that is all. Not uncomfortably 
clever like you, or uncomfortably pretty 
like Phyllis.” 

The two girls set off up the hot dusty 
street, with its Sunday odour of bad 
tobacco. Eegent’s Park wore its most un- 
attractive garb ; a dead monotony of July 
verdure assailed the eye ; a verdure, more- 
over, impregnated and coated with the dust 
and soot of the city. The girls felt listless 
and dispirited, and conscious that their walk 
was turning out a failure. 

As they passed through Clarence Gate, on 
their way back, Frank darted past them with 
something of his normal activity, lifting his 
hat with something like the old smile. 

^‘He might have stopped,” said Lucy, 
pale to the Hps, and suddenly abandoning 
all pretence of concealment of her feelings. 

“No doubt he is in a hurry;” answered 
Gertrude, lamely. “ I daresay he is going 
to lunch in Sussex Place. Lord Water- 
gate’s Sunday luncheon parties are quite 
celebrated.” 

The day dragged on. The weather was 
sultry and every one felt depressed. Fanny 


LVCY. 


197 


was spending the day with relations of 
her future husband’s ; but the three girls 
had no engagements and lounged away the 
afternoon rather dismally at home. 

All were relieved when Fanny and Mr. 
Marsh came in at supper-time, and they 
seated themselves at the table with alacrity. 
They had not proceeded far with the 
meal, when footsteps, unexpected hut 
familiar, were heard ascending the staircase ; 
then some one knocked, and before there 
was time to reply, the door was thrown 
open to admit Frank Jermyn. 

He looked curiously unlike himself as he 
advanced and shook hands amid an uncom- 
fortable silence that everybody desired to 
break. His face was pale, and no longer 
moody, but tense and eager, with shining 
eyes and dilated nostrils. 

You will stay to supper, Mr. Jermyn ? ” 
said Gertrude, at last, in her most neutral 
tones. 

‘‘Yes, please.” Frank drew a chair to 
the table like a person in a dream. 

“ You are quite a stranger,” cried arch, 
unconscious Fan, indicating with head and 
spoon the dish from which she proposed to 
serve him. 


198 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

Frank nodded acceptance of the proffered 
fare, but ignored her remark. 

Silence fell again upon the party, broken 
by murmurs from the enamoured Edward, 
and the ostentatious clatter of knives and 
forks on the part of people who were not 
eating. Every one, except the phghted 
lovers, felt that there was electricity in the 
air. 

At last Frank dropped his fork, aban- 
doning, once for all, the pretence of 
supper. 

Miss Lucy,’' he cried across the table 
to her, “ I have a piece of news.” 

She looked up, pale, with steady eyes, 
questioning him. 

‘‘ I am going abroad to-morrow.” 

Oh, where are you going ? ” cried Fanny, 
vaguely mystified. 

“ I am going to Africa.” 

He did not move his eyes from Lucy as he 
spoke ; her head had drooped over her plate. 
‘‘ They are sending me out as special from 
The Woodcut^ in the place of poor Lead- 
point, who has died of fever. I heard the 
first of it last night, and this morning it was 
finally settled. It makes,” cried Frank, “ an 
immense difference in my prospects.” 


LUCY. 


199 


Edward Marsh, who objected to Frank 
as a spoilt puppy, always expecting other 
people to be interested in his affairs, asked 
the young man bluntly the value of his 
appointment. But he met with no reply ; 
for Frank, his face alight, had sprung to his 
feet, pushing back his chair. 

‘‘ Lucy, Lucy,” he cried in a low voice, 
“ won’t you come and speak to me ? ” 

Lucy rose like one mesmerised ; took, 
with a presence of mind at which she after- 
wards laughed, the key of the studio from 
its nail, and followed Frank from the room, 
amidst the stupefaction of the rest of the 
party. 

It was a sufficiently simple explanation 
which took place, some minutes later, in the 
very room where, a few hours before, poor 
Fred had received his dismissal. 

But why,” said Lucy, presently, ^‘have 
you been so unkind for the last fortnight ? ” 
“Ah, Lucy,” answered Frank; “you 
women so often misjudge us, and think that 
it is you alone who suffer, when the pain is on 
both sides. When it dawned upon me how 
things stood with you and me — dear girl, you 
told me more than you knew yourself— I re- 
flected what a poor devil I was, with not the 


200 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

ghost of a prospect. (I have been down on 
my luck lately, Lucy.) And I saw, at the 
same time, how it was with Devonshire ; I 
thought, he is a good fellow, let him have 

his chance, it may be best in the end ” 

Oh, Frank, Frank, what did you think of 
me ? If these are men’s arguments I am 
glad that I am a woman,” cried Lucy, 
clinging to the strong young hand. 

‘‘Well, so am I, for that matter,” 
answered Frank ; and then, of course, though 
I do not uphold her conduct in this respect, 
Lucy told him briefly of Fred Devonshire’s 
offer and her own refusal. 

It was late before these two happy people 
returned to the sitting-room, to receive con- 
gratulations on the event, which, by this 
time, it was unnecessary to impart. 

Fanny wondered aloud why she had not 
thought of such a thing before ; and felt, 
perhaps, that her own rechauffe love affair 
was quite thrown into the shade. Phyllis 
smiled and made airy jests, submitting her 
soft cheek gracefully to a brotherly kiss. 

Edward Marsh looked on mystified and 
rather shocked, and Gertrude remained in 
the background, with a heart too full for 
speech, till the lovers made their way to her, 
demanding her congratulations. 


LUCY. 


201 


Don’t think me too unworthy,” said 
Prank, in all humility. 

I am g'lad,” she said. 

Glancing up and seeing the two young 
faces, aglow with the light of their happiness, 
she looked back with a wistful amusement 
on her own doubts and fears of the past 
weeks. 

As she did so, the beautiful, familiar 
words flashed across her consciousness — 
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they 
shall see God.” 

Late that night, when the guests had de- 
parted and the rest of the household was 
asleep, Gertrude heard Lucy moving about 
in the room below, and, throwing on her 
dressing-gown, went down stairs. She 
found her sister risen from the table, 
where she had been writing a letter by the 
lamp-light. 

‘‘ Aren’t you coming to bed, Lucy ? Ke- 
member, you have to be up very early.” 

The shadow of the coming separation, 
which at flrst had only seemed to give a 
more exquisite quality to her happiness, lay 
on Lucy. She was pale, and her steadfast 


202 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

eyes looked out with the old calm, but with 
a new intensity, from her face. 

‘‘Bead this,” she said, “it seemed only 
fair.” 

Stooping over the table, Gertrude read — 

“Deae Feed, — I am engaged to Frank 
Jermyn, who goes abroad to-morrow. I am 
sorry if I seemed unkind, but I was grieved 
and shocked by what you said to me. Very 
soon, when you have quite forgiven me, you 
will come and see us all, will you not? 
Acknowledge that you made a mistake, and 
never cease to regard me as your friend. — 
L. L.” 

Gertrude thought : “ Then I shall not 
have to tell Conny, after all.” 




CHAPTEE XY. 

CEESSIDA. 

Beauty like hers is genius, 

D. G. Rossetti. 


L ucy slept Uttle that night. At the first 
flush of the magnificent summer dawn 
she was astir, making her preparations for 
the traveller’s breakfast. 

She had changed suddenly, from a demure 
and rather frigid maiden to a loving and 
anxious woman. Perhaps the signet-ring 
on her middle finger was a magic ring, and 
had wrought the charm. 

Frank’s notice to quit had been so short, 
that he had been obliged to apply for 
various necessaries to Darrell, who, with 


204 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

Lord Watergate, had supplied him with the 
main features of a tropical outfit. His ship 
sailed that day, at noon, so there was little 
time to be lost. He came over at an un- 
conscionably early hour to Number 20b, for 
there was much to he said and little oppor- 
tunity for saying it. 

Lucy, displaying a truly feminine mixture 
of the tender and the practical, packed his 
bag, strapped his rugs, and put searching 
questions as to his preparations for travel. 
Already, womanlike, she had taken him 
under her wing, and henceforward the 
minutest detail of his existence would he 
more precious to her than anything on 
earth. 

Gertrude, when she had kissed the vivid 
young face in sisterly farewell, saw the 
lovers drive off to the station and wondered 
inwardly at their calmness. 

Later in the day, coming into the studio, 
she found Lucy quietly engaged in putting 
a negative into the printing-frame. 

It is his,” she said, looking up with a 
smile ; ‘‘I never felt that I had a right to 
do it before.” 

At luncheon, Phyllis reminded her that 
to-night was the night of Mr. Darrell’s con- 


CBESSIDA. 


205 


versazione at the Berkeley Galleries, for 
which he had sent them two tickets. 

‘‘It’s no good expecting Lucy to go; 
you will have to take me, Gerty,” she an- 
nounced. 

Gertrude had a great dislike to going, and 
she said — 

“ Can’t Fanny take you ? ” 

“ Edward and I are dining at the 
Septimus Pratts’,” replied Fanny. 

After much hesitation, she and her be- 
trothed had had to resign themselves to the 
inevitable, and dispense with the services of 
a chaperon ; a breach of decorum which Mr. 
Marsh, in particular, deplored. 

“Are you very anxious about this party?” 
pleaded Gertrude. 

“ Oh Gerty, of course. And if you won’t 
take me. I’ll go alone,” cried Phyllis, with 
unusual vehemence. 

Gertrude was indignant at her sister’s 
tone ; then reflected that it was, perhaps, 
hard on Phyllis, to cut off one of her few 
festivities. 

Phyllis, indeed, had not been very well of 
late, and demanded more spoiling than ever. 
She coughed constantly, and her eyes were 
unnaturally bright. 


206 TEE ROMANCE OF A SHOP. 

Gertrude ended by submitting to the 
sacrifice, and at ten o’clock she and Phyllis 
found themselves in Bond Street, where the 
rooms were already thronged with people. 

Phyllis had blazed into a degree of beauty 
that startled even her sister, and made her 
the frequent mark for observation in that 
brilliant gathering. 

Her grey dress was cut low, displaying 
the white and rounded slenderness of her 
shoulders and arms ; the soft brown hair 
was coiled about the perfect head in a 
manner that afforded a view of the neck and 
its graceful action ; her eyes shone like 
stars ; her cheeks glowed exquisitely pink. 
Wherever she went, went forth a sweet 
strong fragrance, the breath of a great 
spray of tuberose w^hich was fastened in her 
bodice, and which had arrived for her that 
day from an unnamed donor. 

Darrell’s greeting to both the sisters had 
been of the briefest. He had shaken hands 
unsmilingly with Phyllis ; he and Gertrude 
had brought their finger-tips into chill and 
momentary contact, without so much as 
lifting their eyes, and Gertrude had felt 
humiliated at her presence there. 

She had not seen Darrell since his Private 


C BE S SID A. 


207 


Yiew, more than six weeks ago ; and now, 
as she stood talking to Lord Watergate, her 
eye, guided by a nameless curiosity, an un- 
accountable fascination, sought him out. 
He was looking ill, she thought, as she 
watched him standing in his host’s place, 
near the doorway, chatting to an ugly old 
woman, whom she knew to be the Duchess 
-of Kilburne ; ill, and very unhappy. Happi- 
ness indeed, as she instinctively felt, is not 
for such as he — for the egotist and the 
sensualist. 

Her acute feminine sense, sharpened 
perhaps by personal soreness, had pierced to 
the second-rateness of the man and his art. 
Beneath his arrogance and air of assured 
success, she read the signs of an almost 
oraven hunger for pre-eminence ; of a morbid 
self - consciousness ; an insatiable vanity. 
And for all the stupendous cleverness of 
his workmanship, she failed to detect in 
his work the traces of those qualities which, 
combined with far less skill than his, can 
make greatness. 

As for her own relations to Darrell, the 
positions of the two had shifted a little 
since the first. In the brief fiashes of 
intercourse which they had known, a drama 


208 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

had silently enacted itself ; a war without 
words or weapons, in which, so far, she had 
come off victor. For Sidney had ceased to 
regard her as merely ridiculous; and she, 
on her part, was no longer cowed by his 
aggressive personality, by the all - seeing, 
languid glance, the arrogant, indifferent 
manner. They stood on a level platform 
of unspoken, yet open distaste ; which, 
should occasion arise, might blaze into 
actual defiance. 

Lord Watergate, as I have said, was talk- 
ing to Gertrude ; but his glance, as she was 
quick to observe, strayed constantly toward 
PhylHs. She had wondered before this, as 
to the measure of his admiration for her 
sister ; it seemed to her that he paid her 
the tribute of a deeper interest than that 
which her beauty and her brightness would, 
in the natural course of things, exact. 

As for Phyllis, she was enjoying a triumph 
which many a professional beauty might have 
envied. People flocked round her, scheming 
for introductions, staring at her in open 
admiration, laughing at her whimsical 
sallies. 

That young person has a career before 
her.” 


CBESSIDA. 


209 


Who is she ? ” 

Oh, one of Darrell’s discoveries. Works 
at a photographer’s, they say.” 

Darrell is painting her portrait.” 

^‘No, not her portrait; but a study of 
^ Cressida.’ ” 

‘‘ Cressida ! 


“ ‘ There’s language in her eye, her cheek, her lip ; 

Nay, her foot speaks ’ ” 

Hush, hush ! ” 

Such floating spars of talk had drifted 
past Gertrude’s corner, and had been 
caught, not by her, but by her com- 
panion. 

Lord Watergate frowned, as he men- 
tally finished the quotation, which struck 
him as being in shocking taste. He had 
adopted, unconsciously, a protective atti- 
tude towards the Lorimers ; their courage, 
their fearlessness, their immense ignorance, 
appealed to his generous and chivalrous 
nature. He made up his mind to speak to 
Darrell about that baseless rumour of the 
Cressida. 

Gertrude, on her part, was not too 
absorbed in conversation to notice what 
15 


210 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

her sister was doing. She saw at once 
that, in spite of some thrills of satisfied 
vanity, Phyllis was not enjoying herself. 
There was a restless, discontented light in 
her eyes, a half-weary recklessness in her 
pose, as she leant against the edge of a tall 
screen, which filled Gertrude with wonder 
and anxiety. She felt, as she had felt so 
often lately, that Phyllis, her little Phyllis, 
whom she had scolded and petted and 
yearned over for eighteen years, was pass- 
ing beyond her ken, into regions where she 
could never follow. 

The evening wore itself away as such 
evenings do, in aimless drifting to and 
fro, half-hearted attempts at conversa- 
tion, much mutual staring, and a deter- 
mined raid on the refreshment buffet, on 
the part of people who have dined sump- 
tuously an hour ago. 

Our English social institutions,” Darrell 
said aside to Lord Watergate; ‘‘the pri- 
vate view, where every one goes ; the con- 
versazione^ where no one talks.” 

Lord Watergate laughed, and went back 
to Gertrude, to propose an attack on the 
buffet, by way of diversion; and Sidney, 
with his inscrutable air of utter purpose- 


CBES8IDA. 


211 


lessness, made his way through the crowd 
to where Phyllis stood in conversation with 
two young men. 

Some paces off from her he paused, and 
stood in silence, looking at her. 

Phyllis shot her glance to his, half- 
petulant, half- supplicating, like that of a 
child. 

It was late in the evening, and this was 
the first attempt he had made to approach 
her. Darrell advanced a step or two, and 
Phyllis lowered her eyes, with a sudden 
and vivid blush. 

“ At last,” said Darrell, in a low voice, 
as the two young men instinctively moved 
off before him. 

‘‘You are just in time to say ‘good- 
night’ to me, Mr. Darrell.” 

Darrell smiled, with his face close to hers. 
His smile was considered attractive — 

“ Seeming more generous for the coldness gone.” 

“It is not ‘good-night,’ but ‘good-bye,’ 
that I have come to say.” 

The brilliant and rapid smile had passed 
across his face, leaving no trace. 

“ What do you mean, Mr. Darrell ? ” 


212 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

mean that I am going away to- 
morrow.” 

“For ever and ever?” Phyllis laughed, 
as she spoke, turning pale. 

“ For several months. I have important 
business in Paris.” 

“But you haven’t finished my portrait, 
Mr. Darrell.” 

Sidney looked down, biting his lip. 

“ Shall you he able to finish it in time 
for the Grosvenor ? ” 

“ Possibly not.” 

“Now you are disagreeable,” cried 
Phyllis, in a high voice; “and ungrateful, 
too, after all those long sittings.” 

“Not ungrateful. Thank you, thank 
you, thank you ! ” Under cover of the 
crowd he had taken both her hands, and 
was pressing them fiercely at each repe- 
tition, while his miserable eyes looked 
imploringly into hers. 

“You are hurting me.” Her voice was 
low and broken. She shrank hack afraid. 

“ Good-bye — Phyllis.” 

Gertrude, coming back from the refresh- 
ment-room a minute later, found Phyllis 
standing by herself, in an angle formed by 
one of the screens, pale to the lips, with 
brilliant, meaningless eyes. 


CBESSIDA. 


213 


are going home,” said Gertrude, 
walking up to her. 

“Oh, very well,” she answered, rousing 
herself; “the sooner the better. I ani not 
well.” She put her hand to her side. “I 
had that pain again that I used to have.” 

Lord Watergate, who stood a little apart, 
watching her, came forward and gave her 
his arm, and they all three went from the 
room. 

In the cab Phyllis recovered something 
of her wonted vivacity. 

“Isn’t it a nuisance,” she said, “Mr. 
Darrell is going away for a long time, 
and doesn’t know when he will be able to 
finish my portrait.” 

Gertrude started. 

“ Well, I suppose you always knew that 
he was an erratic person.” 

“You speak as if you were pleased, 
Gerty. I am very disappointed.” 

“ Put not your trust in princes, Phyllis, 
nor in fashionable artists, who are rather 
more important than princes, in these 
days,” answered Gertrude, secretly hoping 
that their relations with Darrell would never 
be renewed. “ He has tired of his whim,” 
she thought, indignant, yet relieved. 


214 THE EOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

Mrs. Maryon opened the door to them 
herself. 

Phyllis shuddered as they went upstairs. 

That bird of ill-omen ! ” she cried, be- 
neath her breath. 

Poor Mrs. Maryon. How can you be 
so silly ? ” said Gertrude, who herself had 
noted the long and earnest glance which 
the woman had cast on her sister. 

In the sitting-room they found Lucy 
sewing peacefully by the lamplight. 

You hardly went to bed at all last night ; 
you shouldn’t be sitting up,” said Gertrude, 
throwing off her cloak ; while Phyllis care- 
fully detached the knot of tuberose from her 
bodice, as she delivered herself for the 
second time of her grievance. 

Afterwards, going up to the mantelpiece, 
she j)laced the flowers in a slender Venetian 
vase, its crystal flecked with flakes of gold, 
which Darrell had given her ; took the vase 
in her hand, and swept upstairs without a 
word. 

do not know what to think about 
Phyllis,” said Gertrude. 

You are afraid that she is too much in- 
terested in Mr. Darrell ? ” ' 

‘‘Yes.” 


CBE8SIDA. 


215 


She does not care two straws for him,” 
said Lucy, with the conviction of one who 
knows ; ‘‘her vanity is hurt, but I am not 
sure that that will be bad for her.” 

“ He is the sort of person to attract ” 

began Gertrude ; but Lucy struck in — 

“Why, Gerty, what are you thinking of? 
he must be forty at least ; and Phyllis is a 
child.” 

Something in her tones recalled to Ger- 
trude that clarion-blast of triumph, in the 
wonderful lyric— 

“Oil, my love, my love is young ! ” 

“At any rate,” she said, as they prepared 
to retire, “ I am thankful that the sittings 
are at an end. Phyllis was getting her head 
turned. She is looking shockingly unwell, 
moreover, and I shall persuade her to accept 
the Devonshires’ invitation for next month.” 




CHAPTEE XVI. 

A WEDDING. 


A human heart should heat for tivo. 

Whatever may say your single scorners ; 

And all the hearths I ever knew 
Had got a pair of chimney-corners. 

F. Lockee : London Lyrics. 

T he next day, at about six o’clock, just 
as they had gone upstairs from the 
studio, Constance Devonshire was an- 
nounced, and came sailing in, in her 
smartest attire, and with her most gracious 
smile on her face. 

“ I have come to offer my cougratula- 
tions,” she cried, going up to Lucy; ‘‘you 
know, I have always thought little Mr. 
Jermyn a nice person.” 


A WEDDING. 


217 


Lucy laughed quietly. 

‘‘ I am glad you have brought your con- 
gratulations in person, Conny. I rather 
expected you would tell your coachman to 
leave cards at the door.” 

Conny turned away her face abruptly. 

“ What is the good of coming to see such 
busy people as you have been lately ? . . . 
And with so^ much love-making going on at 
the same time ! What does Mrs. Maryon 
think of it all ? ” 

‘‘ Oh, she finds it very tame and hackneyed, 
I am afraid.” 

You see,” added Phyllis, who lounged 
idly in an arm-chair by the window, pale 
but sprightly, ‘‘the course of true love rnns 
so monotonously smooth in this household. 
And Mrs. Maryon has a taste for the 
dramatic.” 

Conny laughed ; and at this point the 
door was thrown open to admit Aunt 
Caroline, whose fixed and rigid smile was 
intended to show that she was in a gracious 
mood, and was accepted by the girls as a 
signal of truce. 

“ What is this a little bird tells me, 
Lucy ? ” she cried archly, for Mrs. Pratt 
shared the liking of her sex for matters 
matrimonial. 


218 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

Fanny, who was, in fact, none other than 
the little bird who had broken the news, put 
her head on one side in unconsciously avine 
fashion, and smiled benevolently at her 
sister. 

‘‘I am engaged to Mr. Jermyn,” said 
Lucy, her clear voice lingering proudly over 
the words. 

Conny winced suddenly ; then turned to 
gaze through the window at the blank case- 
ments above the auctioneer’s shop. 

Then you have found out who Mr. 
Jermyn is?'' went on Aunt Caroline, still 
in her most conciliatory tones. 

‘‘We never wanted to know,” said Lucy, 
unexpectedly showing fight. 

Aunt Caroline flushed, but she had come 
resolved against hostile encounter, in which, 
hitherto, she had found herself overpowered 
by force of numbers ; so she contented her- 
self with saying — 

“ And have you any prospect of getting 
married ? 

“Frank has gone to Africa for the 
present,” said Lucy. 

Aunt Caroline looked significant. 

“I only hope,” she said afterwards to 
Fanny, who let her out at the street-door. 


A WEDDING. 


219 


“ that your sister has not fallen into the 
hands of an unscrupulous adventurer. It 
will be time when the young man comes 
home, if he ever does, for Mr. Pratt to make 
the proper inquiries.” 

Fanny had risen into favour since her en- 
gagement ; Mr. Marsh, also, had won golden 
opinions at Lancaster Gate. 

I believe,” Fanny replied, speaking for 
once to the point, “ that Frank Jermyn is 
going to write, himself, to Mr. Pratt, at the 
first opportunity.” 

Meanwhile, upstairs in the sitting-room, 
Conny was delivering herself of her opinion 
that they had all behaved shamefully to 
Aunt Caroline. 

“ She had a right to know. And it is 
very good of her to trouble about such a set 
of ungrateful girls at all,” she cried. ‘‘ You 
can't expect every one besides yourselves to 
look upon Frank Jermyn as dropped from 
heaven.” 

Aunt Caroline is cumulative — not to be 
judged at a sitting,” pleaded Gertrude. 

Very soon Constance herself rose to go. 

‘‘ I shall not see you again unless you 
come down to us ; which, I suppose, you 
won’t,” she said. We go to Eastbourne 


220 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

on Friday ; and afterwards to Homburg. 
Mama is going to write and invite yon in 
due form.” 

‘‘ It is very kind of Mrs. Devonshire. 
Lucy and I cannot possibly leave home, but 
Phyllis would like to go,” answered Ger- 
trude ; a remark of which Phyllis herself 
took no notice. 

‘‘ Well then, good-bye. Lucy, Fred sends 
his congratulations. Phyllis, my dear, we 
shall meet ere long. Fanny, I shall look 
out for your wedding in the paper. Come 
on, Gerty, and let a fellow out ! ” 

On the other side of the door her manner 
changed suddenly. 

‘‘ Do come home and dine, Gerty.” 

‘‘I can’t. Con, possibly.” 

“ Gerty, of course I can guess about Fred. 
I knew it was no good, but I can’t help 
being sorry.” 

‘‘It was out of the question, poor boy.” 

“ Oh, don’t pity him too much. He’ll get 
over it soon enough. His is not a complaint 
that lasts.” 

There was a significant emphasis on the 
last words, that did not escape Gertrude. 

“You look better, Conny, than when I 
last saw you.” 


A WEDDING. 


221 


Oh, I’m all right. There’s nothing the 
matter with me but too many parties.” 

I think dancing has agreed with you.” 

I don’t know about dancing. I have 
taken to sitting in conservatories under pink 
lamps. That is better sport, and far more 
becoming to the complexion.” 

‘‘ I shouldn’t play that game, Conny. It 
never ends well.” 

‘‘ Indeed it does. Often in St. George’s, 
Hanover Square. You are shocked, but I 
do not contemplate matrimony just at 
present. But I see you agree with Chaste- 
lard — 

“ ‘I do not like this manner of a dance ; 

This game of two and two ; it were much better 
To mix between the dances, than to sit, 

Each lady out of earshot with her friend.’ ” 

Have you been taking to literature ? ” 
Yes ; to the modern poets and the 
French novelists particularly. When next 
you hear of me, I shall have taken probably 
to slumming; shall have found peace in 
bearing jellies to aged paupers. Then you 
mi ght write a moral tale about me.’' 

Gertrude sighed, as the door closed on 
Constance. It was the Devonshires who. 


222 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

throughout their troubles, had shown them 
the most unwavering kindness ; and on the 
Devonshires, it seemed, they were doomed 
to bring misfortune. 

At the end of August, Fanny was quietly 
married at Marylebone Church. She would 
have dearly liked a white wedding; ” and 
secretly hoped that her sisters would suggest 
what she dared not — a white satin bride and 
white muslin bridesmaids. Truth to tell, 
such an idea never entered the heads of 
those practical young women ; and poor 
Fanny went soberly to the altar in a dark 
green travelling dress, which was becoming 
if not festive. 

Aunt Caroline and Uncle Septimus came 
up from Tunbridge Wells for the wedding, 
and the Devonshires, who were away, lent 
their carriage. It was a sober, middle-aged 
little function enough, and every one was 
glad when it was over. 

Aunt Caroline said little, but contented 
herself with sending her hard, keen eyes 
into every nook and corner, every fold and 
plait, every dish and bowl ; while she 
mentally appraised the value of the feast. 

One result of the encounters with her 
nieces was this, that she was more out- 


A WEDDING. 


223 


wardly gracious and less inwardly benevolent 
than before ; a change not wholly to be 
deprecated. 

Lucy, with bright eyes, listened, with the 
air of one who has a right to be interested, 
to the words of the marriage service, taking 
afterwards her usual share in practical details. 
She was upheld, no doubt, by the conscious- 
ness of the letter in her pocket ; a letter 
which had come that very morning ; was 
written on thin paper in a bold hand ; and 
in common with others from the same 
source, was bright and kind ; tender and 
hopeful ; and very full of confidential state- 
ments as to all that concerned the writer. 

Phyllis, pale but beautiful, alternated be- 
tween langour and a fitful sprightliness ; her 
three weeks at Eastbourne seemed to have 
done her little good ; while Gertrude went 
through her part mechanically, and remem- 
bered remorsefully that she had never been 
very nice to Eanny. 

As for the bride, she was subdued and 
tearful, as an orthodox bride should be ; and 
invited all her sisters in turn to come and 
stay with her at Netting Hill directly the 
honeymoon in Switzerland should be over. 
Edward Marsh suffered the usual insignifi- 


224 


THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 


cance of bridegrooms ; but did all that was 
demanded of him with exactness. 

In the evening, when that blankness 
which invariably follows a wedding had 
fallen upon the sisters, Mrs. Mary on camo 
up into the sitting-room, and beguiled them 
with tales of the various brides she had 
known ; who, if they had not married in 
haste, must certainly, to judge by the sequel, 
have repented at leisure. 




CHAPTER XVII. 

A SPECIAL EDITION. 


JVe bear to think 

You' re gone^ — to feel you may not come , — 

To hear the door-latch stir and clinks 
Yet no more you / ... . 

E. B. Browning. 

I T was true enough, no doubt, that Phyllis 
did not care for Darrell in Lucy’s sense 
of the word ; but at the same time it was 
sufficiently clear that he had been the means 
of injecting a subtle poison into her veins. 

Since the night of the conversazione at the 
Berkeley Galleries, when he had bidden her 
farewell, a change, in every respect for 
the worse, had crept over her. 

The buoyancy, which had been one of her 
16 


226 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

chief charms, had deserted her. She was 
languid, restless, bored, and more utterly 
idle than ever. The flippancy of her lighter 
moods shocked even her sisters, who had 
been accustomed to allow her great license 
in the matter of jokes ; the moodiness of 
her moments of depression distressed them 
beyond measure. 

At Eastbourne she had amused herself 
with getting up a tremendous flirtation with 
Ered, to the Devonshires’ annoyance and 
the satisfaction of the victim himself, whose 
present mood it suited and who hoped that 
Lucy would hear of it. 

After Phyllis’s visit to Eastbourne, which 
had been closely followed by Fanny’s 
wedding, the household at Upper Baker 
Street underwent a period of dulness, 
which was felt all the more keenly from the 
cheerful fulness of the previous summer. 
Every one was out of town. In early Sep- 
tember even the country cousins have de- 
parted, and people have not yet begun to 
return to London, where it is perhaps the 
most desolate period of the whole year. 

Work, of course, was slack, and they had 
no longer the preparations for Fanny’s 
wedding to fall back upon. 

The air was hot, sunless, misty ; like 


A SPECIAL EDITION. 


227 


a vapour bath, Phyllis said. Even Gertrude, 
inveterate cockney as she was, began to 
long for the country. Nothing but a strong 
sense of loyalty to her sister prevented 
Lucy from accepting a cordial invitation 
from the “ old folks.” Phyllis openly pro- 
claimed that she was only awaiting der 
erste beste to make her escape for ever 
from Baker Street. 

Phyllis, indeed, was in the worst case of 
them all ; for while Lucy had the precious 
letters from Africa to console her, Gertrude 
had again taken up her pen, which seemed 
to move more freely in her hand than it 
had ever done before. 

So the days went on till it was the middle 
of September, and life was beginning to 
quicken in the great city. 

One sultry afternoon, the Lorimers were 
gathered in the sitting-room ; both windows 
stood open, admitting the hot, still, 
autumnal air; every sound in the street 
could be distinctly heard. 

Lucy sat apart, deep in a voluminous 
letter on foreign paper which had come for 
her that morning, and which she had been 
too busy to read before. Phyllis was at the 
table, yawning over a copy of The Woodcut ; 


228 


THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 


which was opened at a page of engravings 
headed : ‘‘ The War in Africa ; from sketches 
by our special artist.” Gertrude sewed 
by the window, too tired to think or 
talk. Now and then she glanced across 
mechanically to the opposite house, whence 
in these days of dreariness, no picturesque, 
impetuous young man was wont to issue ; 
from whose upper windows no friendly eyes 
gazed wistfully across. 

The rooms above the auctioneer’s had, in 
fact, a fresh occupant ; an ex-Girtonian 
without a waist, who taught at the High 
School for girls hard-by. 

The Lorimers chose to regard her as a 
usurper ; and with the justice usually attri- 
buted to their sex, indulged in much sar- 
castic comment on her appearance ; on her 
round shoulders and swinging gait ; on the 
green gown with balloon sleeves, and the 
sulphur- coloured handkerchief which she 
habitually wore. 

Presently Lucy looked up from her letter, 
folded it, sighed, and smiled. 

What has your special artist to say for 
himself?” asked Phyllis, pushing away The 
Woodcut. 

He writes in good spirits, hut holds out 
no prospect of the war coming to an end. 


A SFJSCIAL EDITION. 


229 


He was just about to go further into the 
interior, with General Somerset’s division. 
Mr. Steele of The Photogravure^ with whom 
he seems to have chummed, goes too,” an- 
swered Lucy, putting the letter into her 
pocket. 

“ Perhaps his sketches will be a little 
livelier in consequence. They are very 
dull this week.” 

Phyllis rose as she spoke, stretching her 
arms above her head, “ I think I will go 
and dine with Fan. She is such fun.” 

Fanny had returned from Switzerland a 
day or two before, and was now in the full 
tide of bridal complacency. As mistress of 
a snug and hideous little house at Netting 
Hill, and wedded wife of a large and affec- 
tionate man, she was beginning to feel that 
she had a place in the world at last. 

will come up with you,” said Lucy 
to Phyllis, ‘‘ and brush your hair before you 
go.” 

The two girls went from the room, 
leaving Gertrude alone. Letting fall her 
work into her lap, she leaned in dreamy 
idleness from the wiudow, looking out into 
the street, where the afternoon was deepen- 
ing apace into evening. A dun- coloured 


230 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

haze, thin and transparent, hung in the air, 
softening the long perspective of the street. 
School hours were over, and the Girtonian, 
her arm swinging like a bell-rope, could be 
discerned on her way home, a devoted cor- 
tege of school-girls straggling in her wake. 
From the corner of the street floated up the 
cries of the newspaper boys, mingling with 
the clatter of omnibus wheels. 

An empty hansom cab crawled slowly by. 
Gertrude noticed that it had violet lamps 
instead of red ones. 

A lamplighter was going his rounds, 
leaving a lengthening line of orange- coloured 
lights to mark his track. The recollection 
of summer, the presage of winter, were met 
in the dusky atmosphere. 

How the place echoes,” thought Ger- 
trude. It seemed to her that the boys 
crying the evening papers were more 
vociferous than usual ; and as the thought 
passed through her mind, she was aware 
of a hateful, familiar sound — the hoarse 
shriek of a man proclaiming a special 
edition ” up the street. 

No amount of familiarity could conquer 
the instinctive shudder with which she 
Iways listened to these birds of ill-omen. 


A SPECIAL EDITION. 231 

these carrion, whose hideous task it is to 
gloat over human calamity. Now, as the 
sound grew louder and more distinct, the 
usual vague and sickening horror crept 
over her. She put her hands to her ears. 
‘‘ It is some ridiculous race, no doubt.” 

She let in the sound again. 

Her fears were unformulated, but she 
hoped that Lucy upstairs in the bed-room 
had not heard. 

The cry ceased abruptly; some one was 
buying a paper; then was taken up again 
with increased vociferousness. Gertrude 
strained her ears to listen. 

cc Terrible slaughter, terrible slaughter of 
British troops ! ” floated up in the hideous 
tones. 

She listened, fascinated with a nameless 
horror. 

‘‘A regiment cut to pieces ! Death of a 
general ! Special edition ! ” The flend 
stood under the window, vociferating up- 
wards. 

In an instant Gertrude had slipped down 
the dusky staircase, and was giving the 
man sixpence for a hal^enny paper. 
Standing beneath the gas-jet in the pas- 
sage, she opened the sheet and read ; then, 


232 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

still clutching it, sank down white and 
trembling on the lowest stair. 

Noiseless, rapid footfalls came down be- 
hind her, some one touched her on the 
shoulder, and a strange voice said in her 
ear, ‘‘ Give it to me.” 

She started up, putting the hateful thing 
behind her. 

‘‘No, no, no, Lucy ! It is not true.” 

“ Yes, yes, yes ! don’t be ridiculous, 
Gerty.” 

Lucy took the paper in her hands, 
bore it to the light, and read, Gertrude 
hiding her face against the wall. 

The paper stated, briefly, that news had 
arrived at head-quarters of the almost total 
destruction of the troops which, under 
General Somerset, had set out for the in- 
terior of Africa some weeks before. A few 
stragglers, chiefly native allies, had reached 
the coast in safety, and had reported that 
the General himself had been among the 
first to perish. 

Messrs. Steele and Jermyn, special artists 
of The Photogravure and The Woodcut, re- 
spectively, had been among those to join the 
expedition. No news of their fate had been 
ascertained, and there was reason to fear that 
they had shared the doom of the others. 


A SPECIAL EDITION. 233 

“It is not true.” Lucy’s voice rang 
hollow and strange. She stood there, 
white and rigid, under the gas-jet. 

Mrs. Maryon, who had bought a paper 
on her own account, issued from the shop- 
parlour in time to see the poor young lady 
sway forward into her sister’s arms. 

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 

Those were dark days that followed. At 
first there had been hope ; but as time 
went on, and further details of the catas- 
trophe came to light, there was nothing 
for the most sanguine to do but to accept 
the worst. 

Gertrude herself felt that the one pale 
gleam of uncertainty which yet remained 
was, perhaps, the most cruel feature of the 
case. If only Lucy’s hollow eyes could 
drop their natural tears above Frank’s 
grave she might again find peace. 

Frank’s grave ! Gertrude found herself 
starting back incredulous at the thought. 

Death, as a general statement, is so easy 
of utterance^ of belief ; it is only when 
we come face to face with it that we find 
the great mystery so cruelly hard to realise; 
for death, like love, is ever old and ever 


new. 


234 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

‘‘People always come back in books, 
Fanny had said, endeavouring, in all good 
faith, to administer consolation ; and Lucy 
had actually laughed.- 

“Your sister ought to be able to do 
better for herself,” Edward Marsh said^ 
later on, to his wife. 

But Fanny, who had had a genuine liking 
for kind Frank, disagreed for once with the 
marital opinion. 

“ He was good, and he loved her. 
She has always that to remember,” Ger- 
trude thought, as she watched Lucy going 
about her business with a calmness that 
alarmed her more than the most violent 
expressions of sorrow would have done. 

“Dear little Frank! I wonder if he is 
really dead,” Phyllis reflected, staring with 
wide eyes at the house opposite, rather as if 
she expected to see a ghost issue from the 
door. 

Fortunately for the Lorimers they had 
little time for brooding over their troubles. 
Their success had proved itself no epheme- 
ral one. As people returned to town, work 
began to flow in upon them from all sides, 
and their hands were full. Labour and 
sorrow, the common human portion, were 


A SFUCIAL EDITION. 


235 


theirs, and they accepted them with courage, 
if not, indeed, with resignation. Septem- 
ber and October glided by, and now the 
winter was upon them. 




CHAPTEE XVIII. 


PHTLLIS. 

Die celtre Tochter gcehnet 
** Ich will nicTit verhungern bei euch, 
Ich gehe morgen zum Grafen^ 

JJnd der ist verliebt und reichJ' 


Heine. 



UCY, dear, you must go.” 


JLJ ‘‘ But, Gerty, you can never manage 
to get through the work alone.” 

‘‘ I will make Phyllis help me. It will be 
the best thing for her, and she works better 
than any of us when she chooses.” 

The sisters were standing together in the 
studio, discussing a letter which Lucy held 
in her hand — an appeal from the heart- 
broken “old folks” that she, who was to 


PHYLLIS. 


237 


have been their daughter, should visit them 
in their sorrow. 

“It is simply your duty to go,” went on 
Gertrude, who was consumed with anxiety 
concerning her sister ; then added, involun- 
tarily, “if you think you can bear it.” 

A light came into Lucy’s eyes. 

“ Is there anything that one cannot 
bear ? ” 

She turned away, and began mechani- 
cally fixing a negative into one of the 
printing frames. She remembered how, on 
that last day, Frank had planned the visit 
to Cornwall. Was he not going to show 
her every nook and corner of the old home, 
which many a time before he had so 
minutely described to her ? The place had 
for long been familiar to her imagination, 
and now she was in fact to make acquaint- 
ance with it ; that was all. What availed 
it to dwell on contrasts ? 

The sisters spoke little of Lucy’s ap- 
proaching journey, which was fixed for 
some days after the receipt of the letter; 
and one cold and foggy November after- 
noon found her helping Mrs. Maryon with 
her little box down the stairs, while Matilda 
went for a cab. 


238 


THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 


At the same moment Gertrude issued 
from the studio with her outdoor clothes 
on. 

No one is likely to come in this Egyp- 
tian darkness,” she said ; it is four o’clock 
already, and I am going to take you to 
Paddington.” 

‘‘ That will be delightful, if you 'think you 
may risk it,” answered Lucy, who looked 
very pale in her black clothes. 

“I have left a message with Mrs. Maryon 
to be delivered in the improbable event of 
‘three customers coming in,’ as they did 
in John said Gertrude, with a 

feeble attempt at sprightliness. 

Matilda appeared at this point to an- 
nounce that the cab was at the door. 

“Where is Phyllis?” cried Lucy. “I 
have not said good-bye to her.” 

“ She went out two hours ago, miss,” 
put in Mrs. Maryon, in her sad voice. 

“ No doubt,” said Gertrude, “ she has 
gone to Conny’s. I think she goes there 
a great deal in these days.” 

Mrs. Maryon looked up quickly, then 
set about helping Matilda hoist the box on 
to the cab. 

“How bitterly cold it is,” cried Ger- 


PHYLLIS, 


239 . 


trude, with a shudder, as they crossed the 
threshold. 

An orange- coloured fog hung in the air, 
congealed by the sudden change of tem- 
perature into a thick and palpable mass. 

I shouldn’t be surprised if we had 
snow,” observed Mrs. Mary on, shaking her 
head. 

‘‘ Oh, how could Phyllis he so wicked as 
to go out ? ” cried Gertrude, as the 
cab drove off : ‘‘ and her cough has been 
so troublesome lately.” 

I think she has been looking more like 
her old self the last week or two,” said 
Lucy; then added, ‘‘Do you know that 
Mr. Darrell is back ? I forgot to tell you that 
I met him in Eegent’s Park the other day.” 

“ I hope he will not wish to renew the 
sittings ; but no doubt he has found some 
fresh whim by this time. I wish he had let 
Phyllis alone ; he did her no good.” 

“Poor little soul, I am afraid she finds 
it dismal,” said Lucy. 

“ I mean to plan a little dissipation for 
us both when you are away — the theatre, 
probably,” said Gertrude, who felt remorse- 
fully that in her anxiety concerning Lucy 
she had rather neglected Phyllis. 


240 ^ THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

Yes, do, and take care of yourself, dear 
old Gerty,” said Lucy, as the cab drew 
up at Paddington station. 

The sisters embraced long and silently, 
and in a few minutes Lucy was steaming 
westward in a third-class carriage, and Ger- 
trude was making her way through the fog 
to Praed Street station. At Baker Street 
she perceived that Mrs. Maryon’s prophecy 
was undergoing fulfilment ; the fog had 
lifted a little, and flakes of snow were fall- 
ing at slow intervals. 

Before the door of Number 20 b a small 
brougham was standing — a brougham, as 
she observed by the light of the street lamp,, 
with a coronet emblazoned on the panels. 

‘‘ Lord Watergate is in the studio, miss,’' 
announced Mrs. Maryon, who opened the 
door; ^^he only came a minute ago, and 
preferred to wait. I have lit the lamp.” 
As Gertrude was going towards the studio 
the woman ran up to her, and put a note 
in her hand. I forgot to give you this,” 
she said. I found it in the letter-box a 
minute after you left.” 

Gertrude, glancing hastily at the enve- 
lope, recognised, with some surprise, the 
childish handwriting of her sister Phyllis,. 


PHYLLIS. 


241 


and concluded that she had decided to re- 
main overnight at the Devonshires. 

She might have remembered that I 
was alone,” she thought, a little wistfully 
as she opened the door of the waiting- 
room. 

Lord Watergate advanced to meet her, 
and they shook hands gravely. She had 
not seen him since the night of the co7i- 
versazione at the Berkeley Galleries. His 
ample presence seemed to fill the little 
room. 

It is a shame,” he said, ‘‘to come down 
upon you at this time of night.” 

She laid Phyllis’s note on the table, and 
turned to him with a smile of deprecation. 

“Won’t you read your letter before we 
embark on the question of slides ? ” 

“ Thank you. I will just open it.” 

She broke the seal, advanced to the lamp, 
and cast her eye hastily over the letter. 
But something in the contents seemed to 
rivet her attention, to merit more than a 
casual glance. For some moments she 
stood absorbed in the carelessly-written 
sheet; then, suddenly, an exclamation of 
sorrow and astonishment burst from her lips, 
Lord Watergate advanced towards her. 

17 


242 THE ROMANCE OF A SHOP. 

Miss Lorimer, yon are in some trouble. 
Can I help you, or shall I go away ? ” 

She looked up, half-bewildered, into the 
strong and gentle face. Then realising 
nothing, save that here was a friendly 
human presence, put the letter into his 
hand. 

This is what he read. 

‘‘ My deab Geety, — This is to tell you 
that I am not coming home to-night — am 
not coming home again at all, in fact. I 
am going to marry Mr. Darrell, who will 
take me to Italy, where the weather is 
decent, and where I shall get well. For 
you know, I am horribly seedy, Gerty, and 
very dull. 

“ Of course you will be angry with me; 
you never liked Sidney, and you wiU think 
it ungrateful of me, perhaps, to go off like 
this. ■ But oh, Gerty, it has been so dismal, 
especially since we heard about poor little 
Frank. Sidney hates a fuss, and so do I. 
We both of us prefer to go off on the Q.T., 
as Fred says. With love from 

“ Phyllis.” 

As Lord Watergate finished this charac- 


PHYLLIS. 


243 


teristic epistle, an exclamation more fraught 
with horror than Gertrude’s own burst 
from his lips. He strode across the room, 
crushing the paper in his hands. 

‘‘Lord Watergate!” Gertrude faced 
him, pale, questioning : a nameless dread 
clutched at her. 

Something in her face struck him. Stop- 
ping short in front of her, in tones half 
paralysed with horror, he said — 

“ Don’t you know ? ” 

“Do I know?” she echoed his words, 
bewildered. 

“ Darrell is married. He does not live 
with his wife ; but it is no secret.” 

The red tables and chairs, the lamp. Lord 
Watergate himself, whose voice sounded 
fierce and angry, were whirling round Ger- 
trude in hopeless confusion ; and then sud- 
denly she remembered that this was an old 
story ; that she had known it always, from 
the first moment when she had looked upon 
Darrell’s face. 

Gertrude closed her eyes, but she did not 
faint. She remained standing, while one 
hand rested on the table for support. Yes, 
she had known it ; had stood by powerless, 
paralysed, while this thing approached ; had 


244 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

seen it even as Cassandra saw from afar the 
horror which she had been unable to 
avert. 

Opening her eyes, she met the gaze, 
grieved, pitiful, indignant, of her com- 
panion. 

What is to be done ? ” 

Her lips framed the words with difficulty. 

A pause ; then he said — 

“ I cannot hold out much hope. But will 
you come with me to — to — his house and 
make inquiries ? ” 

She bowed her head, and gathering her- 
self together, led the way from the room. 

The snow was falling thick and fast as 
they emerged from the house, and Lord 
Watergate handed her into his brougham. 
It had grown very dark, and the wind had 
risen. 

“ The Sycamores,” said Lord Watergate 
to his coachman, as he took his seat by 
Gertrude, and drew the fur about her knees. 

Mrs. Maryon, watching from the shop 
window, shrugged her shoulders. 

Who would have thought it ? But you 
never can tell. And that Phyllis ! It’s twice 
I’ve seen her with the fair-haired gentleman, 
with his beard cut like a foreigner’s. It’s 


PHYLLIS. 


245 


what you’d expect from her, poor creature — 
but Gertrude ! ” 

‘‘ They have got the rooms on lease,” 
grumbled Mr. Maryon, from among his 
pestles and mortars. 




CHAPTEE XIX. 

THE SYCAMORES. 


How the world is made for each of us ! 

How all we perceive and know in it 
Tends to some moment's i^rodiict thus, 

When a soul declares itself — to wit, 

By its fruit the thing it does ! 

Egbert Browning. 

T he carriage rolled on its way through 
the snow to St. John’s Wood, while 
its two occupants sat side by side in silence. 
Now that they had set out, each felt the 
hopelessness of the errand on which they 
were bound, to which only that first stifling 
moment of horror, that absolute need of 
action, had prompted them. 

The brougham stopped in the road before 
the gate of The Sycamores. 


THE SYCAMOBES. 247 

‘‘We had better walk up the drive,” said 
Lord Watergate, and opened the carriage 
door. 

By this time the snow lay deep on the 
road and the roofs of the houses ; the trees 
looked mere blotches of greyish-white, seen 
through the rapid whirl of falling flakes, 
which it made one giddy to contemplate. 

“A terrible night for a journey,” thought 
Lord Watergate, as he opened the big gate; 
but he said nothing, fearing to arouse false 
hopes in the breast of his companion. 

They wound together up the drive, the 
dark mass of the house partly hidden by 
the curving, laurel-lined path, and further 
obscured by the veil of falling snow. 

Then, suddenly, something pierced through 
Gertrude’s numbness ; she stopped short. 

“ Look ! ” she crjed, beneath her breath. 

They were now in full sight of the house. 
The upper windows were dark; the huge 
windows of the studio were shuttered close, 
but through the chinks were visible lines 
and points of mellow light. 

Lord Watergate laid his hand on her arm. 
He thought : “ That is just like Darrell, to 
have doubled back. But even then we may 
be too late.” 


248 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

He said: ‘‘Miss Lorimer, if they are 
there, what are you going to do ? 

“ I am going to tell my sister that she has 
been deceived, and to bring her home with 
me.” 

Gertrude spoke very low, but without 
hesitation. Somewhere, in the background 
of her being, sorrow, and shame, and anger 
were lurking ; at present she was keenly 
conscious of nothing but an irresistible 
impulse to action. 

“That she has been deceived!” Lord 
Watergate . turned away his face. Had 
Phyllis, indeed, been deceived, and was it 
not a fool’s errand on which they were bent ? 

They mounted the steps, and he rang the 
bell ; then, by the light of the hanging lamp, 
while the snow swirled round and fell upon 
them both, he looked into her white, tense 
face. 

“ Do not hope for anything. It is most 
probable that they are not there.” 

A long, breathless moment, then the door 
was thrown open, revealing the solemn man- 
servant standing out against the lighted 
vestibule. 

“ I wish to see Mr. Darrell,” said Lord 
Watergate, shortly. 


THE 8YCAM0BES. 


249 


He’s not at home, your lordship.” 

Gertrude pressed her hand to her heart. 

‘‘ He is at home to me, as you perfectly 
well know.” 

‘‘ He has gone abroad, your lordship.” 

Gertrude swayed forward a little, steady- 
ing herself against the lintel, where she 
stood in darkness behind Lord Watergate. 

There are lights in the studio, and you 
must let me in,” said Lord Watergate, 
sternly. 

The man's face betrayed him. 

I shall lose my place, my lord.” 

‘‘I am sorry for you, Shaw. You had 
better make off, and leave the responsibility 
with me.” 

The man wavered, took the coin from 
Lord Watergate’s hand, then, turning, went 
slowly hack to his own quarters. 

Gertrude came forward into the light. 

You must not come in. Lord Water- 
gate.” 

Her mind worked with curious rapidity ; 
she saw that a meeting between the two 
men must be avoided. 

I cannot let you go alone. You do not 
know ” 

“I am prepared for anything. Lord 
Watergate, spare my sister’s shame.” 


250 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

She had passed him, with set, tragic face. 
He saw the slim, rapid figure, in the black, 
snow-covered dress, make its way down the 
passage, then disappear behind the curtain 
which guarded the entrance to the studio. 

Gertrude had entered noiselessly, and, 
pausing on the threshold, hidden in shadow, 
remained there motionless a moment’s 
space. 

Every detail of the great room, seen but 
once before, smote on her sense with a 
curious familiarity. It had been wintry day- 
light on the occasion of her former presence 
there ; now a mellow radiance of shaded, 
artificial light was diffused throughout the 
apartment, a radiance concentrated to sub- 
dued brilliance in the immediate neighbour- 
hood of the fireplace. 

A wood fire, with leaping blue fiames, 
was piled on the hearth, its light dickering 
fitfully on the surrounding objects ; on the 
tiger-skin rug, the tall, rich screen of faded 
Spanish leather ; on Darrell himself, who 
lounged on a low couch, his blonde head 
outlined against the screen, a cloud of 
cigarette smoke issuing from his lips, as he 
looked from under his eye-lids at the figure 
before him. 


THE SYCAMOBES. 


251 


It was Phyllis who stood there by the 
little table, on which lay some fruit and 
some coffee, in rose-coloured cups. Phyllis, 
yet somebody new and strange; not the 
pretty child that her sisters had loved, but 
a beautiful wanton in a loose, trailing 
garment, shimmering, wonderful, white 
and lustrous as a pearl ; Phyllis, with her 
brown hair turned to gold in the light of 
the lamp swung above her; Phyllis, with 
diamonds on the slender fingers, that played 
with a cluster of bloom-covered grapes. 

For a moment, the warmth, the over- 
powering fragrance of hot-house flowers, 
most of all, the sight of that figure by the 
table, had robbed Gertrude of power to move 
or speak. But in her heart the storm, 
which had been silently gathering, was 
growing ready to b urst. For the time, the 
varied emotions which devoured her had 
concentrated themselves into a white heat 
of fury, which kindled all her being. 

The flames leapt, the logs crackled 
pleasantly. Darrell blew a whiff of smoke 
to the ceiling ; Phyllis smiled, then suddenly 
into that bright scene glided a black and 
rigid figure, with glowing eyes and tragic 
face ; with the snow sprinkled on the old 


252 THE EOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

cloak, and clinging in the wisps of wind- 
blown hair. 

‘‘ Phyllis,” it said in level tones ; come 
home with me at once. Mr. Darrell cannot 
marry you ; he is married already.” 

Phyllis shrank back, with a cry. 

Oh, Gerty, how you frightened me ! 
What do you mean by coming down on one 
like this ? ” 

Her voice shook, through its petulance ; 
she whisked round so suddenly that her 
long dress caught in the little table, which 
fell to the ground with a crash. 

Darrell had sprung to his feet with an ex- 
clamation. ^‘By God, what brings that 
woman here ! ” 

Gertrude turned and faced him. 

His face was livid with passion ; his pro- 
minent eyes, for once wide open, glared at 
her in rage and hatred. 

Gertrude met his glance with eyes that 
glowed wdth a passion yet fiercer than his 
own. 

Elements, long smouldering, had blazed 
forth at last. Face to face they stood ; 
face to face, while the silent battle raged 
between them. 

Then with a curious elation, a mighty 


THE SYCAMOBES. 


253 


throb of what was almost joy, Gertrude 
knew that she, not he, the man of whom she 
had once been afraid, was the stronger of 
the two. For one brief moment some 
fierce instinct in her heart rejoiced. 

Phylhs, cowering in the background, 
Phyllis, pale as her splendid dress, shrank 
back, mystified, afraid. Her light soul 
shivered before the blast of passions in 
which, though she had helped to raise them, 
she felt herself to have no part nor lot. 

Beckoned by time, the encounter of those 
two hostile spirits was but brief ; a moment, 
and Darrell had dropped his eyes, and was 
saying in something like his own languid 
voice — 

To what may I ascribe this — honour ? ” 

Gertrude turned in silence to her sister — 

‘‘Take off that ” (she indicated the 

shimmering garment with a pause), “ and 
come with me.” 

Darrell sneered from the background; 
“ Your sister has decided on remaining 
here.” 

“ Phyllis ! ” said Gertrude, looking at 
her. 

Phyllis began to sob. 

“Oh, Gerty, what shall I do? Don’t look 


254 


THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 


at me like that. My dress is there behind 
the screen ; and my hat. Oh, Gerty, I 
shall never get it on ; I am so much 
taller. 

With rapid fingers Gertrude had unfas- 
tened her own long, black cloak, and was 
wrapping it about her sister. 

‘‘ Great heavens,” cried Darrell, coming 
forward and seizing her hands ; You shall 
not take her away ! You have no earthly 
right to take her against her will.” 

With a cold fury of disgust she shook off 
his touch. 

‘‘ Oh, Sidney, I think I’d better go. I 
oughtn’t to have come.” Phyllis’ voice 
sounded touchingly childish. 

Something in the pleading tones stirred 
his blood curiously. 

‘‘Do you know,” he cried, addressing 
himself to Gertrude, who was deliberately 
drawing the rings from her sister’s passive 
hands, “ Do you know what a night it is ? 
That if you take her away you will kill her ? 
Great God, you paragon of virtue, don’t you 
see how ill she is ? ” 

She swept her glance over him in icy 
disdain ; then going up to the mantelpiece, 
laid the rings on the shelf. 


THE SYCAMOBES. 255 

“ I swear to you,” he cried, that I will 
leave the house this hour, this minute. 
That I will never return to it ; that I will 
never see her again — Phyllis ! ” 

At the last word, his voice had dropped 
to a low and passionate key ; he stretched 
out his arms, but Gertrude coming between 
them put her strong desperate grasp about 
Phyllis, who swayed forward with closed 
eyes. Darrell retreated with a muffled ex- 
clamation of grief and rage and baffled 
purpose, and Gertrude half led, half carried 
her sister from the room, the hateful satin 
garment trailing noisily behind them from 
beneath the black cloak. 

A tall figure came forward from the door- 
way ; the door was standing open ; and the 
white whirlpool was visible against the dark- 
ness outside. 

“ She has fainted,” said Gertrude, in a 
low voice. 

Lord Watergate hfted her gently in his 
arms. At the same moment Darrell 
emerged from the studio, then remained 
rooted to the spot, dismayed and sullen, at 
the sight of his friend. 

You are a scoundrel, Darrell,” said Lord 
Watergate, in very clear, deliberate tones ; 


256 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

then, his burden in his arros, he stepped out 
into the darkness, Gertrude closing the door 
behind them. 

Half an hour later the brougham stopped 
before the house in Upper Baker Street. 

Lord Watergate, when he had carried the 
fainting girl upstairs, went himself for a 
doctor. 

I think I have killed her,” said Gertrude, 
before he went, looking up at him from 
over the prostrate figure of her sister ; 
‘‘and if it were all to be done again — I 
would do it.” 

Mrs. Mary on asked no questions ; her 
genuine kindness and helpfulness were 
called forth by this crisis ; and her sus- 
picions of Gertrude had vanished for ever. 




CHAPTEE XX. 

IN THE SICK-BOOM. 

A riddle that one shrinks 
To challenge from the scornful sphinx. 

D. G. Eossetti, 


T he doctor’s verdict was unhesitating 
enough. Phyllis’s doom, as more than 
one who knew her foresaw, was sealed. The 
shock and the exposure had only hastened 
an end which for long had been inevitable. 
Consumption, complicated with heart dis- 
ease, both in advanced stages, held her 
in their grasp ; added to these, a severe 
bronchial attack had set in since the night 
of the snowstorm, and her life might be said 
to hang by a thread. It might be a matter 
18 . 



258 THE EOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

of days, said the cautious physician, of 
weeks, or even months. 

‘‘ Would a journey to the south, at an 
earlier stage of her illness, have availed to 
save her?” Gertrude asked, with white, 
mechanical lips. 

It was possible, was the answer, that it 
would have prolonged her life. But almost 
from the first, it seemed, the shadow of the 
grave must have rested on this beautiful 
human blossom. 

‘‘Death in her face,” muttered Mrs. 
Maryon, grimly; “I saw it there, I have 
always seen it.” 

Meanwhile, people came and went in 
Upper Baker Street ; sympathetic, in- 
quisitive, bustling. 

Fanny, dismayed and tearful, appeared 
daily at the invalid’s bedside, laden with 
grapes and other delicacies. 

“Poor old Fan,” said Phyllis; “how 
shocked she would be if she knew every- 
thing. Don’t you think it is your duty, 
Gerty, to Mr. Marsh, to let him know? ” 

Aunt Caroline drove across from Lan- 
caster Gate, rebuke implied in every fold of 
her handsome dress. 

“I cannot think,” she remarked to her 


IN THE SICK-BOOM. 


259 


friends, ‘‘how Gertrude could have recon- 
ciled such culpable neglect of that poor 
child’s health to her conscience.” 

Gertrude avoided her aunt, saying to her- 
self, in the bitterness of her humiliation : 
“It is the Aunt Carohnes of this world who 
are right. I ought to have listened to her. 
She understood human nature better than 
I.” 

The Devonshires, who had not long re- 
turned from Germany, were unremitting in 
their kindness, the slackened bonds between 
the two families growing tight once more in 
this hour of need. 

Lord Watergate made regular inquiries 
in Baker Street. Gertrude found his pre- 
sence more endurable than that of the people 
with whom she had to dissemble ; he knew 
her secret ; it was safe with him and she 
was almost glad that he knew it. 

Gertrude had written a brief note to Lucy, 
telling her that Phyllis was very ill, but 
urging her to remain a week, at least, in 
Cornwall. 

“ She will need all the strength she can 
get up,” thought Gertrude. She herself 
was performing prodigies of work without 
any conscious effort. 


260 THE ROMANCE OF A SHOP. 

Frozen, tense, silent, she vibrated between 
the studio and the sick-room, moving as if 
in obedience to some hidden mechanism, a 
creature apparently without wants, emotions, 
or thoughts. 

She had gathered from Phyllis’ cynically 
frank remarks, that it was by the merest 
chance she had not been too late and that 
Darrell had returned to The Sycamores. 

“We were going to cross on our way to 
Italy that very night,” Phylhs said. “We 
drove to Charing Cross, and then the snow 
began to fall, and I had such a fit of cough- 
ing that Sidney was frightened, and took me 
home to St. John’s Wood.” 

Gertrude, who had received these con- 
fidences in silence, turned her head away 
with an involuntary, instinctive movement 
of repugnance at the mention of Darrell’s 
Christian name. 

“ Gerty,” said Phyllis, who lay back 
among the pillows, a white ghost with two 
burning red spots on her cheeks, “ Gerty, 
it is only fair that I should teU you : 
Sidney isn’t as had as you think. He went 
away in the summer, because he was be- 
ginning to care about me too much ; he 
only came back because he simply couldn’t 


IN THE 8ICK-B00M. 


261 


help himself. And — and, you will go out of 
the room and never speak to me again — I 
knew he had a wife, Gerty ; I heard them 
talking about her at the Oakleys, the very 
first day I saw him. She was his model ; 
she drinks like a fish, and is ten years older 

than he is 1 put that in the letter about 

getting married, because I didn’t quite know 
how to say it. I thought that very hkely 
you knew.'’ 

Gertrude had walked to the window, and 
was pulling down the blind with stiff, 
blundering fingers. It was growing dusk 
and in less than half an hour Lucy would 
be home. It was just a week since she had 
set out for Cornwall. 

Shall you tell Lucy ? ” came the childish 
voice from among the pillows. 

‘‘I don’t know. Lie still, Phyllis, and I 
will see if Mrs. Maryon has prepared the 
jelly for you.” 

‘‘ Kind old thing, Mrs. Maryon.” 

“Yes, indeed. She quite ignores the 
fact that we have no possible claim on 
her.” 

Gertrude met Mrs. Maryon on the dusky 
stairs, dish in hand. 

“ Do go and lie down, Miss Lorimer ; or 


262 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

we shall have you knocked up too, and 
where should we be then ? You mustn’t let 
Miss Lucy see you like that.” 

Gertrude obeyed mechanically. Going 
into the sitting-room, she threw herself on 
the little hard sofa, her face pressed to the 
pillow. 

She must have fallen into a doze, for the 
next thing of which she was aware was 
Lucy’s voice in her ear, and opening her 
eyes she saw Lucy bending over her, candle 
in hand. 

“ Have you seen her ? ” she asked, sitting 
up with a dazed air. 

‘‘ I am back this very minute. Gertrude, 
what have you been doing to yourself ? ” 

Oh, I am all right.” She rose with a little 
smile. Let me look at you, Lucy. Actually 
roses on your cheek.” 

‘‘ Gertrude, Gertrude, what has happened 
to you ? Have I come — Oh, Gerty, have I 
come too late ? ” 

“ No,” said Gertrude, ‘‘ but she is very 
ill.” 

Lucy put her arms round her sister. 

“ And I have left you alone through these 
days. Oh, my poor Gerty.” 

They went upstairs together, and Lucy 


IN THE SICK-BOOM. 


263 


passed into the invalid’s room, Gertrude 
remaining in the outer apartment, which 
was her own. 

In about ten minutes Lucy came out 
sobbing. ‘‘Oh, Phyllis, Phyllis,” she wept 
below her breath. 

Gertrude, paler than ever, rose without a 
word, and went into the sick-room. 

“ Poor old Lucy, she looked as if she were 
going to cry. I asked her if she had any 
message for Frank,” said Phyllis, as her 
sister sat down beside her, and adjusted the 
lamp. 

“ You are over-exciting yourself. Lie 
still, Phyllis.” 

“ But, Gerty, I feel ever so much better 
to-night.” 

Silence. Gertrude sewed, and the invalid 
lay with closed eyes, but the flutter of 
the long lashes told that she was not 
asleep. 

“Gerty!” In about half an hour the 
grey eyes had unclosed, and were fixed 
widely on her sister’s face. 

“What is it ?” 

“ Gerty, am I really going to die ? ” 

“ You are very ill,” said Gertrude, in a 
low voice. 


264 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP, 

‘‘ But to die — it seems so impossible, 
so difficult, somehow. Frank died; that 
was wonderful enough ; but oneself ! ” 

Oh, my child,” broke from Gertrude’s 

lips. 

‘‘ Don’t be sorry. I have never been a 
nice person, but I don’t funk somehow. I 
ought to, after being such a bad lot, but I 
don’t. Gerty 1 ” 

‘‘ What is it ? ” 

‘‘ Gerty, you have always been good to 
me ; this last week as well. But that is the 
worst of you good people ; you are hard as 
stones. You bring me jelly ; you sit up all 
night with me — but you have never forgiven 
me. You know that is the truth.” 

Gertrude knelt by the bedside, a great 
oompunction in her heart ; she put her hand 
on that of Phyllis, who went on — 

And there is something I should wish to 
tell you. I am glad you came and fetched 
me away. The very moment I saw your 
angry, white face, and your old clothes with 
the snow on, I was glad. It is funny, if one 
comes to think of it. I was frightened, but 
I was glad.” 

Gertrude’s head drooped lower and lower 
over the coverlet ; her heart, which had been 


IN THE SICK-BOOM, 


265 


frozen within her, melted. In an agony of 
love, of remorse, she stretched out her arms, 
while her sobs came thick and fast, and 
gathered the wasted figure to her breast. 

Oh, Phyllis, oh, my child ; who am I to 
forgive you ? Is it a question of forgiveness 
between us ? Oh, Phyllis, my little Phyllis, 
have you forgotten how I love you ? ” 




CHAPTEE XXI. 

THE LAST ACT. 

Just as another woman sleeps, 

D. G. Kossetti. 

I T was not till a week or two later that 
Gertrude brought herself to tell Lucy 
what had happened during her absence. It 
was a bleak afternoon in the beginning of 
December; in the next room lay Phyllis, 
cold and stiff and silent for ever ; and Lucy 
was drearily searching in a cupboard for 
certain mourning garments which hung 
there. But suddenly, from the darkness of 
the lowest shelf, something shone up at her, 
a white, shimmering object, lying coiled 
there like a snake. 

It was Phyllis's splendid satin gown. 


THE LAST ACT. 


2G7 


which Gertrude had flung there on the 
fateful night, and, from sheer repugnance, 
had never disturbed. 

‘‘ But you must send it hack,” Lucy said, 
when in a few broken words her sister had 
explained its presence in the cupboard. 

Lucy was very pale and very serious. She 
gathered up the satin gown, which nothing 
could have induced Gertrude to touch, folded 
it neatly, and began looking about for brown 
paper in which to enclose it. 

The ghastly humour of the little incident 
struck Gertrude. ‘‘ There is some string in 
the studio,” she said, half-ironic ally, and 
went hack to her post in the chamber of 
death. 

In her long narrow coffin lay Phyllis ; 
beautiful and still, with flowers between her 
hands. She had drifted out of life quietly 
enough a few days before ; to-morrow she 
would be lying under the newly-turned 
cemetery sods. 

Gertrude stood a moment, looking down at 
the exquisite face. On the breast of the dead 
girl lay a mass of pale violets which Lord 
Watergate had sent the day before, and as 
Gertrude looked, there flashed through her 
mind, what had long since vanished from it. 


268 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

the recollection of Lord Watergate’s peculiar 
interest in Phyllis. 

It was explained now, she thought, as the 
image of another dead face floated before 
her vision. That also was the face of a 
woman, beautiful and frail ; of a woman 
who had sinned. She had never seen the 
resemblance before ; it was clear enough 
now. 

Then she took up once againher watcher s 
seat at the bed-side, and strove to banish 
thought. 

To do and do and do ; that is all that 
remains to one in a world where thinking, for 
all save a few chosen beings, must surely 
mean madness. 

She had fallen into a half stupor, when 
she was aware of a subtle sense of discomfort 
creeping over her ; of an odour, strong and 
sweet and indescribably hateful, floating 
around her like a winged nightmare. 
Opening her eyes with an efiort, she saw 
Mrs. Maryon standing gravely at the foot of 
the bed, an enormous wreath of tuberose in 
her hand. 

Gertrude rose from her seat. 

‘‘Who sent those flowers?” she said, 
sternly. 


THE LAST ACT. 


269 


“ A servant brought them ; he mentioned 
no name, and there is no card attached.” 

The woman laid the wreath on the cover- 
let and discreetly withdrew. 

Gertrude stood staring at the flowers, 
fascinated. In the first moment of the cold 
yet stifling fury which stole over her, she 
could have taken them in her hands and torn 
them petal from petal. 

One instant, she had stretched out her 
hand towards them ; the next, she had turned 
away, sick with the sense of impotence, of 
loathing, of immeasurable disdain. 

What weapons could avail against the 
impenetrable hide of such a man ? 

She never cared for him,” a vindictive 
voice whispered to her from the depths of 
her heart. 

Then she shrank back afraid before the 
hatred which held possession of her soul. 
The passion which had animated her on the 
fateful evening of Phyllis’s flight, the very 
strength which had caused her to prevail,, 
seemed to her fearful and hideous things. 
She would fain have put the thought of 
them away; have banished them and all 
recollection of DarreU from her mind for 


ever. 


270 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

It was a bleak December morning, with 
a touch of east wind in the ah, when Phyllis 
was laid in her last resting-place. 

To Gertrude all the sickening details of 
the little pageant were as the shadows of a 
nightmare. Standing rigid as a statue by 
the open grave, she was aware of nothing 
but the sweet, stifling fragrance of tuberose, 
which seemed to have detached itself from, 
and prevailed over, the softer scents of rose 
and violet, and to float up unmixed from 
the flower-covered coffln. 

Lucy stood on one side of her, silent 
and pale with down-dropt eyes; Fanny 
sobbed vociferously on the other. Lord 
Watergate faced them with bent head. 
The tears rolled down Fred Devonshire’s 
face as the burial service proceeded. Aunt 
Caroline looked like a vindictive ghost. 
Uncle Septimus wept silently. 

It seemed a hideous act of cruelty to 
turn away at last and leave the poor child 
lying there alone, while the sexton shovelled 
the loose earth on to her coffin ; hideous, 
but inevitable ; and at midday Gertrude 
and Lucy drove back in the dismal coach 
to Baker Street, where Mr. Mary on had put 
up alternate shutters in the shop- window, 


THE LAST ACT. 


271 


and the umbrella-maker had drawn down 
his blinds. 

Gertrude, as she lay awake that night, 
heard the rain beating against the window- 
panes, and shuddered. 




CHAPTEK XXII. 

HOPE AND A FRIEND. 

Alas, I have grieved so I am hard to love. 

Sonnets from the Portuguese. 

G EETKUDE was sitting by the window 
with Constance Devonshire one bleak 
January afternoon. 

Conny’s face wore a softened look. The 
fierce, rebellious misery of her heart had 
given place to a gentler grief, the natural 
human sorrow for the dead. 

This was a farewell visit. The next day 
she and her family were setting out for the 
South of France. 

I tried to make Fred come with me 
to-day,” Constance was saying ; but he 
is dining with some kindred spirits at the 
Cafe Eoyal, and then going on to the 


BOFE AND A FBIEND. 27S 

Gaiety. He said there would be no 
time.” 

Fred had been once to Baker Street since 
the unfortunate interview with Lucy ; had 
paid a brief visit of condolence, when he 
had been very much on his dignity and 
very afraid of meeting Lucy’s eye. The 
re-establishment of the old relations was 
not more possible than it usually is in 
such cases. 

How long do you expect to be at 
Cannes ? ” Gertrude said, after one of the 
pauses which kept on stretching themselves 
baldly across the conversation. 

Till the end of March, probably. Isn’t 
Lucy coming up to say ‘ good-bye ’ to a 
fellow ? ” 

She will be up soon. She is much 
distressed about the over-exposure of some 
plates, and is trying to remedy the mis- 
fortune. Do you know, by the by, that 
we are thinking of taking an apprentice ? 
Mr. Eussel has found a girl — a lady — who 
will pay us a premium, and probably live 
with us.” 

I think that is a good plan,” said 
Conny, staring wistfully out of window. 

How strange it seemed, after all that 
19 


274 THE ROMANCE OF A SHOP. 

had happened, to be sitting here quietly, 
talking about over-exposed negatives, pre- 
miums, and apprentices. 

Looking out into the familiar street, 
with its teeming memories of a vivid life 
now quenched for ever, she said to herself, 
as Gertrude had often said: ‘‘It is not 
possible.” 

One day, surely, the door would open to 
give egress to the well-known figure; one 
day they would hear his footstep on the 
stairs, his voice in the little room. Even 
as the thought struck her, Constance was 
aware of a sound as of some one ascending, 
and started with a sudden heating of the 
heart. 

The next moment Matilda filing open 
the door, and Lord Watergate came, un- 
announced, into the room. 

Gertrude rose gravely to meet him. 

Since the accident, which had brought 
him into such intimate connection with the 
Lorimers’ affairs, his kindness had been as 
unremitting as it had been unobtrusive. 

Gertrude had several times reproached 
herself for taking it as a matter of course ; 
for being roused to no keener fervour of 
gratitude ; yet something in his attitude 


HOPE AND A FBIEND. 275 

seemed to preclude all expression of com- 
monplaces. 

It was no personal favour that he offered. 
To stretch out one’s hand to a drowning 
creature is no act of gallantry ; it is but 
recognffion of a natural human obliga- 
tion., ■ 

Lord Watergate took a seat between the 
two girls, and, after a few remarks, Con- 
stance declared her intention of seeking 
Lucy in the studio. 

“ Tell Lucy to come up when she has 
soaked her plates to her satisfaction,” said 
Gertrude, a little vexed at this desertion. 

To have passed through such experiences 
together as she and Lord Watergate, makes 
the casual relations of Hfe more difficult. 
These two people, to all intents and pur- 
poses strangers, had been together in those 
rare moments of life when the elaborate 
paraphernalia of everyday intercourse is 
thrown aside ; when soul looks straight to 
soul through no intervening veil ; when 
human voice answers human voice through 
no medium of an actor’s mask. 

We lose with our youth the blushes, the 
hesitations, the distressing outward marks 
of embarrassment ; but, perhaps, with most 


276 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

of US, the shyness, as it recedes from the 
surface, only sinks deeper into the soul. 

As the door closed on Constance, Lord 
Watergate turned to Gertrude. 

‘‘Miss Lorimer,” he said, “I am afraid 
your powers of endurance have to be further 
tried.” 

“What is it ? ” she said, while a listless 
incredulity that anything could matter to 
her now stole over her, dispersing the 
momentary cloud of self-consciousness. 

Lord Watergate leaned forward, regard- 
ing her earnestly. 

“There has been news,” he said, slowly, 
“ of poor young Jermyn.” 

Gertrude started. 

“ You mean,” she said, “ that they have 
found him — that there is no doubt.” 

“ On the contrary; there is every doubt.” 

She looked at him bewildered. 

“ Miss Lorimer, there is, I am afraid, 
much cruel suspense in store for you, and 
possibly to no purpose. I came here to-day 
to prepare you for what you will hear soon 
enough. I chanced to learn from official 
quarters what will be in every paper in 
England to-morrow. There is a rumour 
that Jermyn has been seen alive.” 


HOPE AND A FBIEND. 277 

‘‘ Lord Watergate 1 ” Gertrude sprang to 
her feet, trembling in every limb. 

He rose also, and continued, his eyes 
resting on her face meanwhile : — 

Native messengers have arrived at 
head- quarters from the interior, giving an 
account of two Englishmen, who, they 
say, are living as prisoners in one of the 
hostile towns. The descriptions of these 
prisoners correspond to those of Steele and 
Jermyn.” 

‘‘Lucy ! ” came faintly from Gertrude’s lips. 

“It is chiefly for your sister’s sake that 
I have come here. The rumour will be all 
over the town to-morrow. Had you not 
better prepare her for this, at the same 
time impressing on her the extreme proba- 
bihty of its baselessness ? ” 

“I wish it could be kept from her alto- 
gether.” 

“Perhaps even that might be managed 
until further conflrmation arrives. I cannot 
conceal from you that at present I attach 
little value to it. It was in the nature of 
things that such a rumour should arise; 
neither of the poor fellows having actually 
been seen dead.” 

“ What steps will be taken ? ” asked 


278 THE EOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

Gertrude, after a pause. She had not the 
slightest belief that Frank would ever be 
among them again; she and Lucy had gone 
over for ever to the great majority of the 
unfortunate. 

rescue-party is to be organised at 
once. The war being practically at an end, 
it would probably resolve itself into a case 
of ransom, if there were any truth in the 
whole thing. I may be in possession of 
further news a little before the newspapers. 
Needless to say that I shall bring it here at 
once.” 

He took up his hat and stood a moment 
looking down at her. 

“Lord Watergate, we do not even at- 
tempt to thank you for your kindness.” 

“ I have been able, unfortunately, to do 
so little for you. I wish to-day that I had 
come to you as, the bringer of good tidings ; 
I am destined, it seems, to be your bird of 
ill-omen.” 

He dropped his eyes suddenly, and Ger- 
trude turned away her face. A pause fell 
between them ; then she said — 

“ Will it be long before news of any relia- 
bility can reach us ? ” 

“I cannot tell; it may be a matter of 
days, of weeks, or even months.” 


HOPE AND A FBIEND. 279 

I fear it will be impossible to keep the 
rumour from my poor Lucy.” 

‘‘ I am afraid so. I trust to you to save 
her from false hopes.” 

‘‘ So I am to be Cassandra,” thought 
Gertrude, a little wistfully. She was always 
having some hideous role or other thrust 
upon her. 

Lord Watergate moved towards the door. 

A sudden revulsion of feehng came over 
her. 

Perhaps,” she said, ^^it is true.” 

He caught her mood. “ Perhaps it is.” 

They stood smiling at one another like 
two children. 

Constance Devonshire coming upstairs a 
few minutes later found Gertrude standing 
alone in the middle of the room, a vague 
smile playing about her face. A suspicion 
that was not new gathered force in Conny’s 
mind. Going up to her friend she said, with 
meaning — 

Gerty, what has Lord Watergate been 
saying to you ? ” 

“ Conny, Conny, can you keep a secret ? ” 

And then Gertrude told her of the new 
hope, vague and sweet and perilous, which 
Lord Watergate had brought with him. 


280 


TEE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 


‘‘But it is true, Gerty ; it really is,” 
Conny said, while the tears poured down 
her cheeks ; “I have always known that 
the other thing was not possible. Oh, Gerty, 
just to see him, just to know he is alive — 
will not that be enough to last one all the 
days of one’s life ? ” 

But this mood of impersonal exaltation 
faded a little when Constance went hack to 
Queen’s Gate, where everything was in a 
state of readiness for the projected flitting. 
She lay awake sobbing with mingled feelings 
half through the night. 

“Even Gerty,” she thought; “I am going 
to lose her too.” For she remembered the 
smile in Gertrude’s eyes that afternoon when 
she had found her standing alone after Lord 
Watergate’s visit ; a smile to which she 
chose to attach meanings which concerned 
the happiness of neither Frank nor Lucy. 




CHAPTEE XXIII. 

A DISMISSAL. 

0 thou of little faiths what hast thou done ? 

L ucy has always since maintained that 
the days which followed Lord Water- 
gate’s communication were the very worst 
that she ever w^ent through. The fluctua- 
tions of hope and fear, the delays, the pro- 
longed strain of uncertainty coming upon 
her afresh, after all that had already been 
endured, could be nothing less than torture 
even to a person of her well-balanced and 
well-regulated temperament. 

To have to bear it all for the second 
time,” thought poor Gertrude, whose efforts 
to spare her sister could not, in the nature 
of things, be very successful. 


282 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

A terrible fear that Lucy would break 
down altogether and slip from her grasp, 
haunted her night and day. The world 
seemed to her peopled with shadows, which 
she could do nothing more than clutch at 
as they passed by, she herself the only 
creature of any permanence of them all. 
But gradually the tremulous, flickering 
flame of hope grew brighter and steadier ; 
then changed into a glad certainty. And 
one wonderful day, towards the end of 
March, Frank was with them once more : 
Frank, thinner and browner perhaps, but 
in no respect the worse for his experiences ; 
Frank, as they had always known him — 
kind and cheery and sympathetic ; with the 
old charming confldence in being cared for. 

“And I was not there,” he cried, regret- 
ful, self-reproachful, when Lucy had told 
him the details of their sad story. 

“ I thought always, ‘ If Frank were 
here ! ’ ” 

“I think I should have killed him,” 
said Frank, in all sincerity ; and Lucy drew 
closer to him, grateful for the non-fulfll- 
ment of her wish. 

They were standing together in the studio. 
It was the day after Jermyn’s return, and 


A DISMISSAL. 


283 


G-ertrude was sitting listlessly upstairs, her 
busy hands for once idle in her lap. In a 
few days April would have come round again 
for the second time since their father’s death. 

What a lifetime of experience had been 
compressed into those two years, she 
thought, her apathetic eyes mechanically 
following the green garment of the High 
School mistress, as she whisked past down 
the street. 

She knew that it is often so in human life 
— a rapid succession of events ; a vivid con- 
centration of every sort of experience in a 
brief space; then long, grey stretches of 
eventless calm. She knew also how it is 
when events, for good or evil, rain down 
thus on any group of persons. — The majority 
are borne to new spheres, for them the face 
of things has changed completely. But 
nearly always there is one, at least, who, 
after the storm is over, finds himself 
stranded and desolate, no further advanced 
on his journey than before. 

The lightning has not smitten him, nor 
the waters drowned him, nor has any 
stranger vessel borne him to other shores. 
He is only battered, and shattered, and 
weary with the struggle ; has lost, perhaps. 


284 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

all he cared for, and is permanently disabled 
for further travelling. Gertrude smiled to 
herself as she pursued the little metaphor, 
then, rising, walked across the room to the 
mirror which hung above the mantelpiece. 
As her eye fell on her own reflection she 
remembered Lucy Snowe’s words — 

“ I saw myself in the glass, in my mourn- 
ing dress, a faded, hollow-eyed vision. Yet 
I thought little of the wan spectacle. ... I 
still felt life at life’s sources.” 

That was the worst of it ; one was so 
terribly vital. Inconceivable as it seemed, 
she knew that one day she would be up 
again, fighting the old fight, not only for 
existence, but for happiness itself. She was 
only twenty-five when all was said ; much 
lay, indeed, behind her, hut there was still 
the greater part of her life to be lived. 

She started a little as the handle of the 
door turned, and Mrs. Mary on announced 
Lord Watergate. She gave him her hand 
with a little smile : Have you been in the 
studio ? ” she said, as they both seated them- 
selves. 

‘‘Yes; Jermyn opened the door himself, 
and insisted on my coming in, though, to 
tell you the truth, I should have hesitated 


A DISMISSAL. 


285 


about entering had I had any choice in the 
matter — which I hadn’t.” 

Lucy has picked up wonderfully, hasn’t 
she?” 

“ She looks her old self already. Jermyn 
tells me they are to be married almost imme- 
diately.” 

Yes. I suppose they told you also that 
Lucy is going to carry on the business after- 
wards.” 

In the old place ? ” 

No. We have got rid of the rest of the 
lease, and they propose moving into some 
place where studios for both of them can be 
arranged.” 

And you ? ” 

It is uncertain. I think Lucy will want 
me for the photography.” 

Miss Lorimer, first of all you must do 
something to get well. You will break down 
altogether if you don’t.” 

Something in the tone of the blunt words 
startled her ; she turned away, a nameless 
terror taking possession of her. 

“ Oh, I shall be all right after a little 
holiday.” 

You have been looking after everybody 
else ; doing everybody’s work, bearing every- 


286 THE ROMANCE OF A SHOP, 

body’s troubles.” He stopped short suddenly, 
and added, with less earnestness, Quis cus- 
todet custodiem ^ Do you know any Latin, 
Miss Lorimer ? ” 

She rose involuntarily ; then stood rather 
helplessly before him. It was ridiculous 
that these two clever people should be so shy 
and awkward ; those others down below in 
the studio had never undergone any such 
uncomfortable experience ; but then neither 
had had to graft the new happiness on an 
old sorrow ; for neither had the shadow of 
memory darkened hope. 

Gertrude went over to the mantelshelf, 
and began mechanically arranging some 
flowers in a vase. For once, she found 
Lord Watergate’s presence disturbing and 
distressing ; she was confused, unhappy, 
distrustful of herself ; she wished when she 
turned her head that she would And him 
gone. But he was standing near her, a look 
of perplexity, of trouble, in his face. 

‘‘Miss Lorimer,” he said, and there was 
no mistaking the note in his voice, “have 
I come too soon ? Is it too soon for me to 
speak ? ” 

She was overwhelmed, astonished, infl- 
nitely agitated. Her soul shrank back 


A DISMISSAL. 


. 287 


afraid. What had the closer human rela- 
tions ever brought her but sorrow unutter- 
able, unending ? Some blind instinct within 
her prompted her words, as she said, lifting 
her head, with the attitude of one who would 
avert an impending blow — 

‘‘ Oh, it is too soon, too soon.” 

He stood a moment looking at her with 
his deep eyes. 

I shall come back,” he said. 

‘‘ No, oh, no ! ” 

She hid her face in her hands, and bent 
her head to the marble. What he offered was 
not for her; for other women, for happier 
women, for better women, perhaps, but not 
for her. 

When she raised her head he was gone. 

The momentary, unreasonable agitation 
passed away from her, leaving her cold as a 
stone, and she knew what she had done. 
By a lightning flash her own heart stood re- 
vealed to her. How incredible it seemed, 
but she knew that it was true : all this 
dreary time, when the personal thought had 
seemed so far away from her, her greatest 
personal experience had been silently grow- 
ing up — no gourd of a night, but a tree to 
last through the ages. She, who had been 


288 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

SO strong for others, had failed miserably for 
herself. 

Love and happiness had come to her 
open-handed, and she had sent them away. 
Love and happiness ? Oh, those will o’ the 
wisps had danced ere this before her cheated 
sight. Love and happiness ? Say rather, 
pity and a mild peace. It is not love that 
lets himself be so easily denied. 

Happiness? That was not for such as 
she ; but peace, it would have come in 
time; now it was possible that it w^ould 
never come at all. 

All the springs of her being had seemed 
for so long to be frozen at their source ; now, 
in this one brief moment of exaltation, half- 
rapture, half- despair, the ice melted, and her 
heart was flooded with the stream. 

Covering her face with her hands, she knelt 
by his empty chair, and a great cry rose up 
from her soul : — the human cry for happi- 
ness — the woman’s cry for love. 



CHAPTEE XXIV. 

AT LAST. 

We sat when shadows darken, 

And let the shadoivs be ; 

Each ivas a soul to hearken, 

Devoid of eyes to see. 

You came at dusk to find me ; 

1 knew you ivell enough. . . . 

Oh, Eights that dazzle and blind me — 

It is no friend, but Love ! 

A. Maey F. Robinson. 


Hotel Prince de Galles, Cannes, 
Ajpril 21th, 

M y dearest Gerty, — You shall have a 
letter to-day, though it is more than 
you deserve. Why do you never write to 
me ? Now that you have safely married 
20 



290 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

your young people, you have positively no 
excuse. By the by, the poor innocent 
mater read the announcement of the wed- 
ding out loud at breakfast to-day. — Fred got 
crimson and choked in his coffee, and I had 
a silent fit of laughter. However, he is 
all right by now, playing tennis with a 
mature lady with yellow hair, whom he 
much affects, and whom papa scornfully 
denominates a hotel hack.’’ 

All this, let me tell you, is preliminary. 
I have a piece of news for you, but somehow 
it won’t come out. Not that it is anything 
to be ashamed of. The fact is, Gerty, I 
am going the way of all flesh, and am 
about to be married. Believe me, it is 
the most sensible course for a woman to 
take. I hope you will follow my good 
example. 

Do you remember Sapho’s words : J’ai 
taut aime; j’ai besoin d’etre aim^e ” ? Do 
not let the quotation shock you ; neither 
take it too seriously. I think Mr. Graham 
— you know Lawrence Graham ? — does care 
as caring goes and as men go. He came out 
here, on purpose, a fortnight ago, and yes- 
terday we settled it between us ” 

Gertrude read no further; the thin. 


AT LAST. 


291 


closely- written sheet fell from her hand ; 
she sat staring vaguely before her. 

Conny’s letter, with its cheerfulness, partly 
real, partly affected, hurt her taste, and de- 
pressed her rather unreasonably. 

This was the hardest feature of her lot : 
for the people she loved, the people who had 
looked up to her, she had been able to do 
nothing at all. 

She was sitting alone in the dismantled 
studio on this last day of April. To-morrow 
Lucy and Frank would have returned from 
Cornwall, and have taken possession of the 
new home. 

Her own plans for the present were vague. 

One of her stories, after various journeys 
to editorial offices, had at last come back to 
her in the form of proof, supplemented, 
moreover, by what seemed to her a hand- 
some cheque. 

She had arranged, on the strength of this, 
to visit a friend in Florence, for some 
months ; after that period she would in all 
probability take part with Lucy in the photo- 
graphy business. 

There was no fire lighted, and the sun, 
which in the earlier part of the day had 
warmed the room, had set. Most of the 


292 TEE BOMANCE OF A SHOP, 

furniture and properties had already gone to 
the new studio, but some yet remained^ 
massed and piled in the gloom. 

The black sign-board, with its gold let- 
tering, stood upright and forlorn in a corner, 
as though conscious that its day was over 
for ever. Gertrude had been busying herself 
with turning out a cupboard, but the light 
had failed, and she had ceased from her work. 

A very dark hour came to Gertrude^ 
crouching there in the dusk and cold, amid 
the dismantled workshop which seemed to 
symbolize her own life. 

She who held unhappiness ignoble and 
cynicism a poor thing, had lost for the 
moment all joy of living and all behef. 
The little erection of philosophy, of hope, 
of self-reliance, which she had been at such 
pains to build, seemed to be crumbling about 
her ears ; all the struggles and sacrifices of 
life looked vain things. What had life 
brought her, but disillusion, bitterness, an 
added sense of weakness ? 

She rose at last and paced the room. 

This will pass,” she said to herself; I 
am out of sorts; and it is not to be wondered 
at.” 

She sat down in the one empty chair the 


AT LAST,. 


293 


room contained, and leaning her head on 
her hand, let her thoughts wander at will. 

Her eyes roved about the little dusky 
room which was so full of memories for her. 
Shadows peopled it ; dream-voices filled it 
with sound. 

Lucy and Phyllis and Frank moved hither 
and thither with jest and laughter. Fanny 
was there too, tampering amiably with the 
apparatus ; and Darrell looked at her once 
with cold eyes, although, indeed, he had 
been a rare visitor at the studio. 

Then all these phantoms faded, and she 
seemed to see another in their stead ; a man, 
tall and strong, his face full of anger and 
sorrow — Lord Watergate, as he had been 
on that never-forgotten night. Then the 
anger and sorrow faded from his face, and 
she read there nothing but love — love for 
herself shining from his eyes. 

Then she hid her face, ashamed. 

What must he think of her? Perhaps 
that she scorned his gift, did not understand 
its value; had therefore withdrawn it in 
disdain. 

Oh, if only she could tell him this : — that it 
was her very sense of the greatness of what 
he offered that had made her tremble, turn 


294 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP. 

away, and reject it. One does not stretch 
ont the hand eagerly for so great a gift. 

She had told him not to return and he 
had taken her at her word. She was paying 
the penalty, which her sex always pays one 
way or another, for her struggles for strength 
and independence. She was denied, she 
told herself with a touch of rueful humour,, 
the gracious feminine privilege of changing 
her mind. 

Lord Watergate might have loved her 
more if he had respected her less, or at 
least allowed for a little feminine wayward- 
ness. Like the rest of the world, he had 
failed to understand her, to see how weak 
she was, for all her struggles to be strong. 

She pushed back the hair from her fore- 
head with the old resolute gesture. Well,, 
she must learn to be strong in earnest now ; 
the thews and sinews of the soul, the moral 
muscles, grow with practice, no less than 
those of the body. She must not sit here 
brooding* but must rise and fight the Fates. 

Hitherto, perhaps, life had been nothing 
but failures, but mistakes. It was quite pos- 
sible that the future held nothing better in 
store for her. That was not the question ; 
all that concerned her was to fight the fight. 


AT LAST. 


295 


She lit a solitary candle, and began sorting 
some papers and prints on the table near. 

If he had cared,” her thoughts ran on, 

he would have come back in spite of 
everything.” 

Doubtless it had been a mere passing 
impulse of compassion which had prompted 
his words, and he had caught eagerly at 
her dismissal of him. Or was it all a delu- 
sion on her part ? That brief, rapid moment, 
when he had spoken, had it ever existed 
save in her own imagination ? Worst 
thought of all, a thought which made her 
cheek burn scarlet in the solitude, had she 
misinterpreted some simple expression of 
kindness, some frank avowal of sympathy ; 
had she indeed refused what had never been 
offered ? 

She felt very lonely as she lingered there 
in the gloom, trying to accustom herself in 
thought to the long years of solitude, of 
dreariness, which she saw stretching out 
before her. 

The world, even when represented by her 
best friends, had labelled her a strong- 
minded woman. By universal consent she 
had been cast for the part, and perforce 
must go through with it. 


296 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP, 

She heard steps coming up the Virginia 
cork passage and concluded that Mrs. 
Maryon was bringing her an expected post- 
card from Lucy. 

Come in,” she said, not raising her head 
from the table. 

The person who had come in was not, 
however, Mrs. Maryon. 

He came up to the table with its solitary 
candle and faced her. 

When she saw who it was her heart stood 
still ; then in one brief moment the face 
of the universe had changed for her for 
ever. 

‘‘ Lord Watergate ! ” 

“ I said I would come again. I have come 
in spite of you. You will not tell me that I 
come too soon, or in vain ? ” 

You must not think that I did not value 
what you offered me,” she said simply, 
though her voice shook ; “that I did not 
think myself deeply honoured. But I was 
afraid — I have suffered very much.” 

“And I. . . . Oh, Gertrude, my poor 
child, and I have left you all this time.” 

For the light, flickering upwards, had 
shown him her weary, haggard face ; had 
shown him also the pathetic look of her 


AT LAST, 


297 


eyes as they yearned towards him in 
entreaty, in reliance, — in love. 

He had taken her in his arms, without 
explanation or apology, holding her to his 
breast as one holds a tired child. 

And she, looking up into his face, into the 
lucid depths of his eyes, felt all that was 
mean and petty and bitter in life fade away 
into nothingness ; while all that was good 
and great and beautiful gathered new 
meaning and became the sole realities. 




EPILOGUE. 

T HEEE is little more to tell of the people 
who have figured in this story. 

Fanny continues to flourish at Notting 
Hill, the absence of children being the one 
drop in her cup and that of her husband. 

^‘But, perhaps,” as Lucy privately re- 
marks, it is as well ; for I don’t think the 
Marshes would have understood how to 
bring up a child.” 

For Lucy, in common with all young 
matrons of the day, has decided views on 
matters concerned with the mental, moral, 
and physical culture of the young. Unlike 
many thinkers, she does not hesitate to put 
her theories into practice, and the two small 
occupants of her nursery bear witness to 
excellent training. 

The photography, however, has not been 


EPILOGUE. 


299 


crowded out by domestic duties ; and no 
infant with pretensions to fashion omits to 
present itself before Mrs. Jermyn’s lens. 
Lucy has succumbed to the modern practice 
of specialising, and only the other day 
carried off a medal for photographs of young 
children from an industrial exhibition. Her 
husband is no less successful in his own 
line. Having permanently abandoned the 
paint-brush for the needle, he bids fair to 
take a high place among the black and 
white artists of the day. 

The Watergates have also an addition to 
their household, in the shape of a stout 
person with rosy cheeks and stiff white pet- 
ticoats, who receives a great deal of atten- 
tion from his parents. Gertrude wonders if 
he will prove to have inherited his father’s 
scientific tastes, or the literary tendencies of 
his mother. She devoutly hopes that it is 
the former. 

Conny flourishes as a married woman no 
less than as a girl. She and the Jermyns 
dine out now and then at one another’s 
houses ; her old affection for Gertrude con- 
tinues, in spite of the fact that their respec- 
tive husbands are quite unable (as she says) 
to hit it off. 


300 THE BOMANCE OF A SHOP, 

Fred has not yet married ; but there is no 
reason to believe him inconsolable. It is 
■rather the embarrassment of choice than any 
other motive which keeps him single. 

Aunt Caroline, having married all her 
daughters to her satisfaction, continues to 
reign supreme in certain circles at Lancaster 
Gate. She speaks with the greatest respect 
of her niece. Lady Watergate, though she has 
been heard to comment unfavourably on the 
shabbiness of the furniture in Sussex Place. 

As for Darrell, shortly after Phyllis’s death, 
he went to India at the invitation of the 
Viceroy and remained there nearly two 
years. 

It was only the other day that the Water- 
gates came face to face with him. It was 
at a big dinner, where the most distin- 
guished representatives of art and science 
and literature were met. Gertrude turned 
pale when she saw him, losing the thread of 
her discourse, and her appetite, despite her 
husband’s reassuring glances down the table. 

But Darrell went on eating his dinner and 
looking into his neighbour’s eyes, in ap- 
parent unconsciousness of, or unconcern at, 
the W^atergates’ proximity. 

The Maryons continue in the old premises. 


EPILOGUE, 


301 


increasing their balance at the banker’s, and 
enlarging their experience of life. 

The Photographic Studio is let to an 
enterprising young photographer, who has 
enlarged and beautified it beyond recog- 
nition. 

As for the rooms above the umbrella- 
maker’s : the sitting-room facing the street ; 
the three-cornered kitchen behind ; the 
three little bed-rooms beyond ; — when last 
I passed the house they were to let unfiir- 
nished, with great fly-blown bills in the 
blank casements. 


THE END. 


®re0ljam Preiss, 

UNWIN BROTHERS, 


CHILWORTH AND LONDON 






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Boston. 


Recent Publications 

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. ■ . - -- ^ 

THE AMERICAN TAUCHNITZ SERIES. 

Square i6mo. Paper covers, 50 cents. Cloth, ;^i.oo. 


I. 

Miss Frances Merley: 

A Novel. By John Elliot Curran. 420 pages. 

The first important work of an author familiar to American readers by hia 
remarkable sketches to Scribner's and other magazines. 

II. 

Autobiography of a New England Farm House: 

A Romance of the Cape Cod Lands. By N. H. Chamberlain. 380 pages. 

A novel of singtdar power and beauty, great originality and rugged force. 
Born and bred on Cape Cod, the author, at the winter firesides of country 
people, very conservative of ancient English customs now gone, heard curious 
talk of kings, Puritan ministers, the war and precedent struggle of our Revolu- 
tion, and touched a race of men and women now passed away. He also heard, 
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♦hey are preserved, and to a degree believed, by honest Christian folk, in the 
very teeth of modern progress. These things are embodied in this book. 

OTHER POL LIMES OP THIS SERIES IN PREPARATION. 


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STORIES FOR CHILDREN AND THOSE WHO LOVE CHILDREN. 
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New and Charming Work on Japan, 

NINE YEARS IN NIPON : SKETCHES OF JAPANESE LIFE 
AND MANNERS. By Henry Faulds, L. F. P. S.,.S’«r^^i7«e^TsuKiJi 
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This novel is written by the A merican wife of a Russian diplomat, who, by 
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her Ttative country, and shows, perhaps for the first tune, an unprejudiced pict- 
ure of Russian society. 

Her literary style has been pronounced easy and flowing, with a certain opu- 
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who recall the charming story of Switzerlandwhich appeared in a late num^'^ 
of Scribner" will need no further recommendation to the perusal of this 
work. 

In these days when so much interest and sympathy is evoked by the narration 
of the miseries of the moujik this novel comes very it propos, as it presents 
a picture of the social and domestic life of that other branch of the Russians, the 
aristocratic, governing class ; who, notwithstanding their adherence to French 
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them their romance and passion; and renders them as empliatically Russian as 
the most humble peasant. 


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Works by Sally Pratt McLean. 

CAPE COD FOLKS. A novel. Twenty-third edition. Illustrated, izmo. 
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TOWHEAD: THE STORY OF A GIRL. Fifth thousand. lamo. 
Cloth. i^i.2S. 

SOME OTHER FOLKS. A Book in Four Stories. i2mo. Cloth. $1.25. 

These books are so well known that further comment seems superfluous. 
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but what has been described as their deep, true humanness, and the inimitable 
manner in which the mirror is held up to nature that all may see reflected 
therein some familiar trait, some description or character which is at once recog- 
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MISS McL BAN'S NEW BOON. 

Since the production of Miss McLean’s first effort “ Cape Cod Folks,” she 
has steadily advanced in intellectual development ; the same genius is at work 
in a larger and more artistic manner, until she has at length produced what 
must be truly considered as her masterpiece, and which we have the pleasure to 
announce for immediate publication. 

LASTCHANCE JUNCTION; FAR, FAR WEST. A novel. By 
Saily Pratt McLean, i vol. lamo Cloth. $1.25. 

The author in this book sees further and clearer than she saw in her earlier 
works ; she has stepped, as it were, out of the limits of her former thought and 
action into the centre of the arena of the world’s full, rich life ; from the indi- 
vidual characteristic she has passed to the larger weaknesses and virtues of 
humanity, with their inevitable results of tragedy and nobility. Much as 
has been said respecting the pathos of her former books, one feels, as the 
last page of ” Lastchance Junction ” has been turned, that they were but small 
as compared with this, so terribly earnest is it, so true in its delineation of life, 
with all its elements of tragedy and comedy ; and life, moreover, in that region 
of our country where Nature still reigns supreme, and where humanity, uncon- 
trolled by the conventionalities of more civilized communities, stands sharply 
draw'n in the strong sliadow's of villainy and misery, and in the high lights of 
uncultured, strong nobility and gentleness. There are no half-tones. 

Terse, incisive descriptions of men and scenery, drawn with so vivid a pen 
that one can see the characters and their setting, delicious bits of humor, 
passages full of infinite pathos, make this book absolutely hold the reader from 
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feeling rises that such a work has not been written in vain, and will have its 
place among those which tend to elevate our race. 


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THE FOUR GOSPELS. Translated into Modern English from the Au- 
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A cheap edition of a new translation of the Gospels, having a great run of 
popularity hi the religious circles of Great Britain, 

The author has taken the authorised version as it stands, availing him- 
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apparent meaning of the text in the plainest possible language, the whole 
object being the simplification of the narratives'of the Evangelists. It is not 
expected that this rendering wdll supersede the accepted version. The author 
evidently feels that he is not without hope that it may lead to the serious con- 
sideration, in proper quarters, of the advisability of providing the people 
w'ith an authorised translation of the Scriptures into the “ vulgar tongue.” 
not of the sixteenth but of the nineteenth century. 


THESKETCHES OF THE CLANS OF SCOTLAND, with twenty- 

two full-page colored plates of Tartans. By Ci.ansmen J. M. P. - F. \V. S. 

Large 8vo. Cloth, 52.00. 

The object of this treatise is to give a concise account of the origin, seat, and 
characteristics of the Scottish clans, together with a representation of the dis- 
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work, all executed in Scotland. 


THE GREEN HAND; or, the Adventures of a Naval Lieutenant. A Sea 
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A new library edition of this fascinating sea classic. [In press. 


ALL MATTER TENDS TO ROTATION, OR THE ORIGIN 
OF ENERGY. A New Hypothesis which throws Light upon all the 
Phenomena of Nature. Electricity, Magnetism, Gravitation, Light, 
Heat, and Chemical Action explained upon Mechanical Principles and 
traced to a Single Source. By Leonidas Lh Cenci Hamilton, M.A. 
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Illustratious, including Fine Steel Portraits of Faraday and Maxwell. 
Handsomely bound in cloth. 8vo, 340 pp. Price, $3.00. Net. 

In this volume the author has utilized the modem conception of lines of 
force ori^nated by Faraday, and afterwards developed mathematically by 
Prof. J. Clerk Maxwell, and he has reached an explanation of electrical and 
magnetic phenomena which has been expected by physicists on both conti- 
nents. It may have a peater influence upon the scientific world than either 
Newton’s ” Principia’^ or Darwin’s “ Origin of Species,” because it places 
natural science upon its only true basis — Pure Mechanics. 


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JOHN BROWN. By Hermann Von Holst, author of “Constitutional 
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John Brown’s grave. Illustrated. i6mo, gilt top. $1.50. 

This book, the author of which is so v/ell known by his “ Constitutional His- 
tory,” and by his biography of John C. Calhoun, cannot fail to be of interest to 
all students of American history, who appreciate a calm, impartial criticism of 
a man and an episode which have been universally and powerfully discussed. 


MARGARET; and THE SINGER’S STORY. By Effie Douglass 
Putnam. Daintily bound in white, stamped in gold and color, gilt 
edges. i6mo. 5^1.25. 

A collection of charming poems, many of which are familiar through the 
medium of the magazines and newspaper press, with some more ambitious 
flights, amply fulfilling the promise of the shorter efforts. Tender and pastoral, 
breathing the simple atmosphere of the fields and woods. 


AROUND THE GOLDEN DEEP. A Romance of the Sierras. 
By A. P. Reeder. 500 pages. lamo. Cloth. $1.50. 

A novel of incident and adventure, depicting with a strong hand the virile life 
of the mine that gives its name to the story, and contrasting it with the more 
refined, touches of society in the larger cities ; well written and interesting. 


SIGNOR l. By Salvatore Farina. Translated by the Baroness Lange- 
nau. i2mo. Cloth. ^1.25. 

A dainty story by an Italian author, recalling in the unique handling of its 
incidents, and in the development of its plot, the delicate charm of “ Marjorie 
Daw.” 


MIDNIGHT SUNBEAMS, OR BITS OF TRAVEL THROUGH 
THE LAND OF THE NORSEMAN. By Edwin Coolidge Kim- 
ball. On fine paper, foolscap 8vo, tastefully and strongly bound, with 
vignette. Cloth. $1.2$. 

P-onounced by Scandinavians to be accurate in its facts and descriptions, 
and of great interest to all who intend to travel in or have come from Norway 
#r Sweden. 


WOODNOTES IN THE GLOAMING- Poems and Translations by 
Mary Morgan. Square i6mo. Cloth, full gilt. $1.25. 

A collection of poems and sonnets showing great talent, and valuable transla- 
dons from Gautier, Heine, Uhland, Sully-Prudhomme, Gottschalk, Michael 
Angelo, and others. Also prose translations from the German, edited and 
prefaced by Max Muller. 


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Important New Boohs. 


THOMAS CARLYLE’S COUNSELS TO A LITERARY ASPI- 
RANT (a Hitherto Unpublished Letter of 1842), and What Came of 
Them. With a brief estimate of the man. By Jambs Hutchinson Stir- 
ling, LL. D. i2mo, boards, 50 cents. 

Gives a side of the rugged old Scotchman which will be new to most readers. 
It shows that he was not always gruff and bearish, and that he could at times 
think of somebody besides himself. The letter is one which every young man 
who has a leaning towards literary work will read and ponder over. 


SOCIAL LIFE AND LITERATURE FIFTY YEARS AGO. 

i6mo, cloth, white paper labels, gilt top. $1.00. 

By a well-known litterateur. It will take a high place among the literature 
treating of the period. A quaint and delightful book, exquisitely printed in the 
Pickering style. 


CIVILIZATION IN THE UNITED STATES. By Matthew 
Arnold. And Other Essays concerning America. i6mo, unique paper 
boards. 75 cents. Cloth, uncut, $1.2$. The cloth binding matches the 
uniform editioti 0/ his collected works. 

Comprises the critical essays, which created so much discussion, namely, 
“ General Grant, an Estimate.” “A Word about America,” “A Word more 
about America,” and “ Civilization in the United States.” 

This collection gathers in the great critic’s last contribuuGn.® to iiieiature. 


LEGENDS OF THE RHINE. From the German of P^JV. ^Bernard. 
Translated by Fr. Arnold. Finely Illustrated. Small 4to. Cloth. 

An admirable collection of the popular historical traditions of tne Rhine, told 
with taste and picturesque simplicity. [/« press. 


A SELECTION FROM THE POEMS OF PUSHKIN. 

Translated, with Critical Notes and a Bibliography. By Ivan Panin, 
author of “ Thoughts. ” P'oolscap 8vo. Unique binding. $2.00. 

The first published translation by the brilliant young Russian, Ivan Panin, 
whose lectures in Boston on the literature of Russia, during the autumn of last 
^ ear, attracted crowded houses. 


WIT, WISDOM, AND PATHOS, from the prose of Heinrich Heine, 
with a few pieces from the “ Book of Songs.” Selected and translated by 
J. Snodgrass. Second edition^ thoroughly revised. Cr. 8vo, 338 pp. 
Cloth, $2.00 

“A treasure of almost priceless thought and criticism.” — Contemporary 
Review. 


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Important New Boohs 


BOOKS FOB THE SEEKER AND FOR THE SORROWFUL. 
LIFE’S PROBLEMS. HERE AND HEREAFTER. An autobio- 

graphy. By George Truesdelle Flanders. i6nio. Cloth, gilt top. 

$1.25. Second Edition revised. 

This book, which is not sectarian, has been received with marked favor by 
critics and by readers, both in this country and in England. This is not sur- 
prising, for it treats the most difficult problems of life, here and hereafter, in a 
hold and fearless manner, and at the same time in a candid and tender spirit, 
and has supplanted unbelief, doubt, and perplexity, with faith, trust, and hope. 

It is areal spiritual biography — an inner life honestly revealed. . . Stich 
a cheerful spirit animates the book, a spirit so full of spiritual buoyancy, in har- 
mony with the gospel of love, seeking the good and the beautiful — this in itself 
communicates hope, courage, a 7 id faith." — Boston Post. 

WHENCE? WHAT? WHERE? A VIEW OF THE ORIGIN, 
NATURE, AND DESTINY OF MAN. By James R. Nichols. 

With portrait of the author. lamo. Cloth, gilt top. ^^1.25. Eleventh 

edition, revised. 

“ I consider the late Jaifies R. Nichols j the well-known chemist, one of the 
coolest and most scientific investigators m the field of psychical phenomena, and, 
at the same thne, one of the most honest. If the world had more earnest thmk- 
ers of the same kind to co-operate with him, the world would fi 7 id out some- 
thing of value. — Joseph Cook. 

No one can take up the book without feelmg the i 7 icli 7 iatio 7 i to read further, 
and to ponder on the all-hnportant subjects which it preserits. Though it is not 
a religiotts book hi the accepted se 7 tse of the word, it is a book which calls for the 
exercise of the religious nature, and which m diffusmg 7 nany sensible ideas 
will be good." — Philadelphia Press. 

THE MYSTERY OF PAIN : A BOOK ADDRESSED TO THE 

SORROWFUL. ByJ AMES Hinton, M. D. With an introduction by 

James R. Nichols, author of “Whence? What? Where?” i6mo. 

Cloth, gilt top. $1.00, 

This book was published in England twenty years ago, and a small edition 
was sent to this country, which readily found purchasers. The book, at the 
time it appeared in England, had a limited sale ; but since the author’s death a 
new interest has arisen, and the work has been widely circulated and read. — A 
book which has comforted many a troubled soul, and awakened the emotion of 
love in distressed and doubting hearts. — Many good and uplifting thoughts in 
the book, — thoughts which will not readily pass from the memory. The prob- 
lem of pain is indeed dark and not easily solved ; and if one is able to point 
out rifts in the cloud, the world of sufferers will welcome the light as rays 
breaking through from the regions of rest and bliss. — Froin the Introduction. 

“ No word of praise can c^d anything to the value of this little work, which 
has Ttow taken its place as one o_f the classics of religious literature. The ten- 
der, reverent, and searching spirit of the author has come as a great corisolation 
and help to many persons.'^— New York Critic, 


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Important New Books. 


Lives of Five Distinguished Americans. The Only 
Biographies Extant. 

iVIATTHEW GALBRAITH PERRY. A typical American Naval Officer. 
By William Elliot Griffis, author of “The Mikado’s Empire,” and 
“ Corea: the Hermit Nation.” Cr, 8vo, 459 pages, gilt top, with two por- 
traits and seven illustrations. $2.00. 

“ Sure of favorable reception, and a permanent place in public and private 
libraries,” — IV. V. Evenmg Post. 

“ Of unusual value to every student of American history.” — A^at. Baptist. 

“ One of the best books of the year.” — Public Opinion. 

“ His biography will be one of the naval classics.” — Army and Navy 
Jotirnal. 

“ Has done his work right well.” — Chicago Evening Journal. 

“ Highly entertaining and instructive.” — Universalist Quarterly. 

THADDEUS STEVENS, AMERICAN STATESMAN, AND 
FOUNDER OF THE REPUBLICAN PARTY. A Memoir by 
E. B. Callendar. With portrait. Cr. 8vo. Cloth, gilt top. $1,50. 

A biography of one of the most interesting characters in the whole range of 
American politics, whose work must be understood thoroughly to gain accurate 
knowledge of the secret forces operating during his times, 1792 to 1869. 

JOHN HOWARD PAYNE. A Biography of the author of “Home, 
Sweet Home,” by Chas. H. Brainard. With four portraits from minia- 
tures and other sources, fac-simile of manuscript, “ Home, Sweet Home,” 
and photographic illustrations of his tomb at Washington, etc,, etc. 8vo. 
Cloth elegant, gilt top, in box. $3.00. 

Apart from the remembrance and regard in which the author of “Home, 
Sweet Home ” is held by the world, this biography will possess additional inte- 
rest from the fact that it is written under the direct editorshio of W. W. Cor- 
coran, the late eminent philanthropist, who provided the funds for the removal 
of the poet’s body from Africa to Washington. 

THE LIFE OF ADMIRAL SIR ISAAC COFFIN, BARONET; 
HIS ENGLISH AND AMERICAN ANCESTORS. By Thomas 

C. Amory. With portrait. Large 8vo. $1.25. 

The name of Coffin is so widely spread over our continent, so many thous- 
ands of men and women of other patronymics take pride in their descent from 
Tristram, its first American patriarch, that what concerns them all, any consid- 
erable branch or distinguished individual of the race, seems rather history than 
biography. 

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF COMMODORE CHARLES 

MORRIS. With heliotype portrait after Ary Scheffer. 1 vol. 8vo. 
Ill pages. $1.00. 

A valuable addition to the literature of American history ; a biography of 
one who, in the words of Admiral Farragut, was “America’s grandest seaman.” 


CUppleS and tltlT d, Booksellers, BOSTON. 

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Important New Books 


HOW TO WRITE THE HISTORY OF A FAMILY. By W. P. 

W. Phillimore, M. a., B. C. L. i vol. Cr. 8vo. Tastefully printed in 
antique style, handsomely bound. $2.00. 

Unassuming, practical, essentially useful, Mr. Phillimore’s book should be in 
the hands of every one who aspires to search for his ancestors and to learn his 
family history. — Athenceum. 

This is the best compendious genealogist’s guide that has yet been published, 
and Mr. Phillimore deserves the thanks and appreciation of all lovers of family 
history. — Reliquary. 

Notice. — Large Paper Edition. A few copies, ©n hand-made paper, wide mar- 
gins, bound in half morocco, may be obtained, price ^^6.50 riet. 


THE KINSHIP OF MEN : An Argument from Pedigrees ; or. Genealogy 
Viewed as a Science. By Henry Kendall. Cr. 8vo. Cloth, $2.00. 

The old pedigree-hunting was a sign of pride and pretension ; the modern is 
simply dictated by the desire to know whatever can be known. The one 
advanced itself by the methods of immoral advocacy; the other proceeds by 
those of scientific research. — Spectator (London). 


RECORDS AND RECORD SEARCHING. A Guide to the Genealo- 
gist and Topographer, By Walter Rye. 8vo, cloth. Price $2.50. 

This book places in the hands of the Antiquary and Genealogist, and others 
interested in kindred studies, a comprehensive guide to the enormous mass of 
material which is available in his researches, showing what it consists of, and 
where it can be found. 


ANCESTRAL TABLETS. A Collections of Diagrams for Pedigrees, so 
arranged that Eight Generations of the Ancestors of any Person may be 
recorded in a connected and simple form. By William H. Whitmore, 
A. M. SEVENTH EDITION. On heavy parchment paper, large 4 to, 
tastefully atid strongly bound, Roxburgh style. Price $2.00. 

“No one with the least bent for genealogical research ever examined this in- 

f eniously compact substitute for the ‘ family tree ’ without longing to own it. 

t provides for the recording of eight lineal generations, and is a perpetual 
incentive to the pursuit of one’s ancestry.” — Nation. 


THE ELEMENTS OF HERALDRY. A practical manual, showing 
what heraldry is, where it comes from, and to what extent it is applicable to 
American usage; to which is added a Glossary in English, French and 
Latin of the forms employed. Profusely Illustrated. By W. H. 
Whitmore, author of “ Ancestral Tablets,” etc. \_Ih press. 


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BOSTON. 


Important New Books 


PROF. CLARK MURRAY'S IVOR ICS. 

SOLOMON MAIMON: An Autobiography. Translated from the Ger- 
man, with Additions and Notes, by Prof. J. Clark Murray, i vol. 
Cr. 8vo. Cloth. 307 pp. $2.00. 

A life zvhich forvis one of the most extraordinary biographies in the history 
of literature. 

The London Spectator says: “Dr. Clark Murray has had the rare good 
fortune of first presenting this singularly vivid book in an English translation 
as pure and lively as if it were an original, and an original by a classic 
English w'riter. 

George Eliot, in “Daniel Deronda,” mentions it as “that w'onderful bit of 
autobiography — the life of the Polish Jew, Solomon Maimon ” ; and Milman, 
in his “ History of the Jews,” refers to it as a curious and rare book. 

HANDBOOK OF PSYCHOLOGY. By Prof. J. Clark Murray, 
LL D., Professor of Mental and Moral Philosophy, M’Gill College, 
Montreal. Cr. 8vo. 2 d edition, enlarged and iniproved. #1.75. 

Clearly and simply written, with illustrations so well chosen tliat the dullest 
student can scarcely fail to take an interest in the subject. 

ADOPTED FOR USE IN COLLEGES IN SCOTLAND, ENGLAND, 
CANADA, AND THE UNITED STATES. 

Prof Murray's good fortune in bringing to light the '^Maimon Memoirs," 
together with the increasing popularity of his " H andbook of Psychology f km 
attracted the attention of the intellectual world, giving him a position 
with the leaders of thought of the present age. His writings are at once 
original and suggestive. 


AALESUNLr TO TETUAN. By Chas. R. Corning. A Volume of 
Travel, lamo. 400 pp. Cloth. $2.00. 

Table of Contents. — Portsmouth — Isle of Wight — Channel Islands — 
Normandy — Nice — Monte Carlo — Genoa — Naples and its Environments — 
Rome — Verona — Venice — Norway — Sweden — St. Petersburg — Moscow' — 
)V arsaw’ — Berlin — Up the Rhine — Barcelona — Valencia — Seville — Cadiz 
— Morocco — Gibraltar — Granada — Madrid and the Royal Wedding — Bull 
Fi,^hts — Escurial — Biarritz — Bordeaux — Paris. 


TAPPY’S CHICKS: or. Links Betw'een Nature and Human Nature. 
By Mrs. George CuPFLES. Illustrated. i6mo. Cloth. $1.25. 

The tenderness and humor of this volume are simply exquisite. — E. P. 
IV hippie. 

The title is altogether too insignificant for so delightful and valuable a work. 
Spectator (London). 

It is not merely a work of talent, but has repeated strokes of undeniable 
genius. — George Macdonald, [In preparation. 


Publishers, 

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Important New Books 


A New Book by W. H. H. Murray. 

DAYLIGHT LAND. The experiences, incidents, and adventures, humorous 
and otherwise, which befell Judge John Doe, Tourist, of San Francisco; 
Mr Cephas Pepperell, Capitalist, of Boston ; Colonel Goffe, the Man 
from New Hampshire, and divers others, in their Parlor-Car Excursion over 
Prairie and Mountain ; as recorded and set forth by W. H, H. Murray. 
Superbly illustrated with 150 cuts in various colors by the best artists. 

Contents: — Introduction — The Meeting — A Breakfast — A Very Hopeful 
Man — The Big Nepigon Trout — The Man in the Velveteen Jacket — The 
Capitalist — Camp at Rush Lake — Big Game — A Strange Midnight Ride 
— Banff — Sunday among the Mountains — Nameless Mountains — The Great 
Glacier — The Hermit of Frazer Canon — Fish and Fishing in British Colum- 
bia — Vancouver City — Parting at Victoria. 

8vo. 350 pages. Unique paper covers, $2.50; half leather binding, $3.50. 

Mr. Murray has chosen the north-western side of the continent for the scene 
of this book ; a region of country which is little known by the average reader, 
but which in its scenery, its game, and its vast material and undeveloped 
resources, supplies the author with a subject which has not been trenched upon 
even by the magazines, and which he has treated in that lively and spirited 
manner for which he is especially gifted. The result is a volume full of novel 
information of the country, humorous and pathetic incidents, vivid descriptions 
of its magnificent scenery, shrewd forecasts of its future wealth and greatness 
w’hen developed, illustrated and embellished with such lavishness and artistic 
elegance as has never before been attempted in any similar work in this coun- 
try. 

ADIRONDACK TALES. By W. H. H. Murray. Illustrated. lamo. 
300 pages. $1.25. 

Containing John Norton’s Christmas — Henry Herbert’s Thanksgiving — A 
Strange Visitor — Lost in the Woods — A Jolly Camp — Was it Suicide? — 
The Gambler’s Death — The Old Beggar’s Dog — The Ball — Who was he ? 

Short stories in Mr. Murray’s best vein — humorous; pathetic; full of the 
spirit of the woods. 


HOW DEACON TUBMAN AND PARSON WHITNEY KEPT 
NEW YEARS, and other Stories. By W. H. H. Murray. i6mo. 
Illustrated. ^1.25. 

A HEART REGAINED. By Carmen Sylva (Queen of Roumania) 
Translated by Mary A. JMitchell. Fcap. 8vo. Cloth. $1.00. 

A charming story by this talented authoress, told in her vivid, picturesque 
manner, and showing how patient waiting attains to ultimate reward. 


Cupples and Hurd, Booksellers, BOSTON 

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Important New Books 


RALPH WALDO EMERSON, Philosopher and Seer. An Estimate 
of his Character and Genius. By A. Bronson Alcott. 

With portraits n 7 id other illustrations. Foolscap octavo. Gilt top. 

One Jniudred copids will be prhded on larger and finer paper, 8 vo, suitable 
for the insertion of extra ilhistrations. Bound in Roxburgh, gilt top. Price 
to Subscribers, $3.00. 

A book about Emerson, w'ritten by the one man who stood nearest to him of 
all men. It is an original and vital contribution to Einersoma ; like a portrait 
of one of the old masters painted by his own brush. [/« Press. 

HERMAN GRIMM'S WORKS. 

THE LIFE OF RAPHAEL as shown in his principal works. From the 
German of Herman Grimm, author of “The Life of Michael Angelo,” 
etc. With froidispiece, after Braun, of the recently discovered portrait, 
outlined by Raphael in chalk. Cr. 8vo. Cloth. $2.00. - 

ESSAYS ON LITERATURE. From the German of Herman Grimm, 
uniform with “The Life of Raphael.” New atid eidarged edition, care- 
fdly corrected. Cr. 8vo. Cloth. $2.00. 


BY JAMES H. STARK. 

ANTIQUE VIEWS OF YE TOWNEOF BOSTON. ByIamesH. 

Stark, Assisted by Dr. Samuel A. Green, Ex-Mayor of Boston, Libra- 
rian of the Massachusetts Historical Society; John Ward Dean, Libra- 
rian of the New England Historic Genealogical Society; and Judge 
Mellen Chamberlain, of the Public Library. An extensive and exhaust- 
ive work m J78 pages. Large quarto. Illustrated with nearly 200 full 
size reproductiotis of all Imown rare maps, old pritits, etc. i vol. 4 to. 
Cloth. $b.oo. 

BERMUDA GUIDE. A description of everything on or about the Ber- 
muda Islands, concerning w'hich the visitor or resident may desire informa- 
tion, including its history, inhabitants, climate, agriculture, geology, 
government, military and naval establishments. By James H. Stark. 
With Maps, Engravings and 16 photo-prints, i vol. i2mo, cloth, 
157 pp. $2.00. 

PAUL REVERE: Historical and Legendary. By Elbridge H. Goss. 
With reproductions of many of Revere’s engravings, etc. [In press. 

A DIRECTORY OF THE CHARITABLE AND BENEFICENT 
ORGANIZATIONS OF BOSTON, ETC. Prepared for the Asso. 

ciated Charities. 1 vol., 196 pp. i6ino. Cloth, ;^i.oo. 

Publishers, 

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Important New Books, 


Translations of Two Powerful German Novels by Authors 
New TO American Readers. 

THE LAST VON RECKENBURG. By Louise von Franqois. Trans- 
lated from the third German edition. 370 pages. Cr. 8vo. Cloth, gilt. 
$1.50. 

The popularity of this book among the reading public of Europe, and the 
interest it has excited in critical circles, led to the present translation into 
English. Gustave Freytag, one of the greatest of German novelists, says of 
it : “ Clear, terse, with not a word too much, and rich in powerful expres- 

sions, it depicts everything in short sentences, obedient to every mood, every 
change of color. Readers will always close this volume with a consciousness 
that they have received a rare gift.” 

MM. Erckmann-Chatrian have depicted the feverish excitement of France 
during the height of Napoleon’s meteor-like blaze : this equally powerful ro- 
mance shows the reaction in Germany immediately after his downfall, when 
the pulse of Europe was striving to regain its normal beat. 

THE MONK’S WEDDING. A novel. By C. F. Meyer. Cr. 8vo 
unique binding, gilt top. $1.25. 

This is an Italian story, written by a German, and translated by an American, 
and purports to be narrated by the poet Dante at the hospitable hearth of his 
patron. Can Grande. He evolved it from an inscription on a gravestone : 
“ Hie jacet monachus Astorre cum uxore Antiope. Sepeliebat Azzolinus ” 
(Here sleeps the monk Astorre with his wife Antiope. Ezzelin gave them 
burial). Those who have any acquaintance with the unscrupulous machina- 
tions of the Italian, and particularly of the Italian ecclesiastic, will have little 
difficulty in conjuring up what a grim, lurid tale of secret crime and suffering a 
“ Monk’s Wedding ” is sure to be. It is of sustained and absorbing interest, full 
of delicate touches and flashes of passion, a tragedy which cannot fail to leave 
an impression of power upon the mind. 


Works by William H. Rideing. 

THACKERAY’S LONDON: HIS HAUNTS AND THE 
SCENES OF HIS NOVELS. With two original Portraits (etched 
and engraved); a fac-simile of a page of the original manuscript of “ The 
Newcomes ; ” together with several exiquisitely engraved w^oodcuts. i vol, 
square i2mo. Cloth, gilt top, in box. $1.00. Fourth Edition, 

LITTLE UPSTART, A. A Novel. Third edition. i6mo. Cloth. $1.2^, 
“ As a study of literary and would-be literary life it is positively brilliant- 
Many well-known figures are drawn with a few sweeping touches. Tke book, 
as a story, is interesting enough for the most experienced taste, and, as a satire, 
it is manly and healthy.” — John Boyle O' Reilly. 

“ Notably free from the least sensationalism or unnaturalness. . . Flashes of 
sterling wit, with touches of exquisite pathos, and with a quiet mastery of style 
which I have rarely seen surpassed in American fiction and seldom equalled. 
The incidental bits of philosophy, observation, and keen worldly knowledge 
have few parallels in our literature.” — Edgar Fawcett. 


T r T T Publishers, 

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BOSTON. 


mportant New Boohs. 


Travesties, Parodies, and Jeux d’Esprit. 

THE IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS OF HIS EXCELLENCV 
AND DAN. By C. W. Taylor. With 40 full-page silbouette illustra 
tions by F. H. Blair, 90 pp. i6mo Paper. 25 cents, 

“ It is fun for the masses, wholly irrespective of political parties, — such good- 
natured fun that even those that it satirizes might well laugh. . . Probably tht 
most humorous skit ever produced, 

THE LITTLE TIN-GODS-ON-WHEELS ; OR, SOCIETY IN 
OUR MODERN ATHENS- A Trilogy, after the manner of the 
Greek. By Robert Grant. Illustrated by F. G. Attvvood. Tenth edi- 
tion, Pamphlet. Small 4to. 50 cents. 

Divided into Three Parts; The Wall Flowers; the Little Tin-Gods-on- 
Wheels ; The Chaperons. A broad burlesque of Boston society scenes. 

ROLLO’S JOURNEY TO CAMBRIDGE. A Tale of the Adventures 
of the Historic Holiday Family at Harvard under the New Regime. Wirt 
twenty-six illustrations, full-page frontispiece, and an illuminated cover ol 
striking gorgeousness. By Francis G. Attwood, i vol. imperial 8vo 
Limp. London toy-book style. Third and enlarged edition. 75 cents. 

"All will certainly relish the delicious satire in both text and illustrations.” — 
Boston Traveller, 

"A brilliant and witty piece of fun.” — Chicago Tribzine. 

EVERY MAN HIS OWN POET; OR, THE INSPIRED 
SINGER’S RECIPE BOOK. By W. H. Mallock, author of " New 
Republic,” etc. Eleventh Edition, i6mo. 25 cents. 

A most enjoyable piece of satire, witty, clever, and refined. In society and 
literary circles its success, both here and abroad, has been immense. 


TWO COMEDIES: AN ILL WIND; AN ABJECT APOL- 
OGY. By F. Donaldson, Jr, Fcap. 8vo. Paper, elegant. 50 cents. 

These comedies belong to the same class of literature as do the lightest of 
Austin Dobson’s lyrics and Andrew Lang’s least serious essays, and their form 
is admirably suited to the depicting of the foibles and rather weak passions of 
that indefinite caste, American society. They are evidently modelled on the 
French vaudeville, and their characters are clever people, who say bright things. 
Why should we not choose the people we describe from the clever minority, 
instead of making them, as is sometimes done, unnecessarily dull, although 
perhaps more true to nature at large ? Mr. Donaldson has done so, and much 
of the dialogue in these comedies is clever as well as amusing. 


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Important New Books. 


STRAY LEAVES FROM NEWPORT. By Mrs. Wm. Lamont 

Wheeler. Exquisitely printed and most beautifully bound in tapestry ^ 
white afid gold. Gilt top. Uncut edges. i2mo. $1.50. 

Two editions of these charming prose idyls were exhausted within two weeks 
of publication. Third edition now preparing. 

The author is familiar with every detail of the social life of Newport, in 
which she has long been a promiftent figure, afid the types of character she 
presents will be readily recognized as direct copies from ttature. She is inti- 
mately cu:qtiainted with the scefies she describes, and the literary quality of her 
book is of a character that will recommend it to readers of cultivated tastes . — 
Gazette. 


IONA : A Lay of Ancient Greece. By Payne Erskine. Cr. 8vo. Cloth. 
Gilt top. $1.75. 

Musical, and full of classic beauty, recalling in many passages the delicate 
and subtle charm of Keats. 


WHAT SHALL MAKE US WHOLE? or. Thoughts in the direction 
of Man’s Spiritual and Physical Integrity. By Helen Bigelow Merri- 
MAN. Third Edition. i6mo, unique boards. 75 cents. 

An endeavor to present in a popular way the philosophy and practice of 
mental healing. 

The author does not claim for her essay either completeness or permanent 
value, but hopes “to fix a few points and establish a few relative values, in an- 
ticipation of the time when human research and experience shall complete the 
pictures.” 

She holds that the human mind can achieve nothing that is so good except 
when it becomes the channel of the infinite spirit of God, and that so-called 
mind cures are not brought about wholly by the power of the mind over the 
body, or by the influence of one mind over another. 

Religious enthusiasm and scientific medicine abound in cases of extraordi- 
nary cures of diseases effected by what, for the sake of convenience, is gener- 
ally called “ faith.” 

It will not do, says the British Medical Journal, for pathologists and psy- 
chologists to treat these “ modern miracles ” so cavalierly. 

In them are exhibited, in a more or less legitimate manner, the results of the 
action of the mind upon the bodily functions and particles. 

Hysteria is curable by these phenomena, since hysteria, after all, is only an 
unhealthy mastery of the body over the mind, and is cured by this or any other 
stimulus to the imagination. “Therefore,” says the editor of the above jour- 
nal, “ there is no reason to doubt that faith-healing, so called, may have 
more positive results than we have been accustomed to allow.” 


TYPICAL NEW ENGLAND ELMS AND OTHER TREES. 

Reproduced by Photogravure from photographs by Henry Brooks, with an 
Introduction, and with Notes by L. L. Dame. 4to. [/;/ press. 


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Harvard University. 

HARVARD, THE FIRST AMERICAN UNIVERSITY : ITS HIS- 
TORY IN EARLY DAYS. By G. G. Bush. Choicely illustrated, 
with rare and curious engravings. Large Paper, 4to, $5.00; i6mo, 
Roxburgh binding, cloth, $1.25. 

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Old New England Days. By Sophie M. Damon 1.25 

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ZoRAH. By Elisabeth Balch 1.25 

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